Just Peachy
by Irene Claire
Summary: A somewhat plotless bromantic-wonder. Gen. All audiences. Steve chases a criminal into a an old WW2 bunker and into a labyrinth of undergrond tunnels which lie beneath it. Of course Danny follows ... of course he does - he's the backup, right ... Steve whump; Steve being "Steve" and Danny being "Danny" but a maybe a bit of BAMF Danny, too. A tiny bit of bad language.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Yeah Phoebe - you're so great putting up with me and my "LOOK! Squirrel!" free-form stories that come out of nowhere. This is one such oddity. No real plot per se but hopefully a lot of fun for a reader. Not "quite" finished but I do have an end in mind. ;-) Not really hard beta'd as I have a bad bunny that likes to "touch things" after the fact. Any mistakes are my own._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"How are you doing?"

"Fine. Just ... _peachy_."

"You sure? You've said that every time I've asked …"

"Then stop asking, Steven."

Steve did. He completely shut his mouth and the quiet ranged around them then. The silence was oppressive and somehow worsened by the sound of their panted breathing.

Danny paused in his belly crawl to wipe his forehead on the corner of his thumb. Sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes. It stung and itched, adding to all of the extremes he was being forced to endure. He nearly scratched himself with his thumbnail. The nail was jagged, ripped by that point. And his thumb was shaking as was his entire hand; _hell_, his whole body for that matter. A voice inside his head chanted at him over and over again to just give the hell up … and he was as desperate to give in to that voice as much as he was to ignore it.

_He couldn't do this_ … and yet he had to. He _had_ to because he had no choice and with all of his resolve, he started forward again. Shaking and doubtful, he crawled on with only the soles of Steve's boots to look at. Oh there was more to see, but Danny wouldn't acknowledge those things. He wouldn't allow the devil on his shoulder to poke and prod him into really seeing the dirt on all sides. The lack of light. Or, the way the tunnel's shallow roof was going to skim the top of his head in spots.

He bit his lip hard, drawing blood when an unexpected shower of dirt and pebbles rained down on his head and shoulders. Grit peppered his face, coating it and forcing him to simultaneously smell and taste the dankness of where they were. He wouldn't acknowledge where they were and yet his senses were overwhelmed by the truth of it. There was a whine inside his chest as he fought to garner a breath of air – clean air – and that damnable chant picked up its cadence.

_He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this …._

_Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward._ Sometimes his knees worked and got in the act, too. Sometimes the toes of his shoe might be lucky and catch a rock or the side of the tunnel wall. A short scrabble might happen to find purchase to push himself a few more precious inches forward.

_But towards what?_ Sometimes he'd gain too much in his eagerness to keep moving forward and accidentally connect with one of Steve's boots. His face, already scraped and bleeding from their escapade, would get hurt again. His chin or his lip … sometimes his cheek. New blood. New cuts and scrapes which he barely felt after the dull stunned feeling of what he'd done to himself, left him.

Danny had no clue and had stopped trying to guess where Steve thought he might be leading them. Not even the Mets line-up could save where his thoughts were going now. His old trusty 'out' simply couldn't compete with a partially collapsed tunnel under an old WW2 bunker. It was too dark and just damned too frightening as the whine inside his chest increased in volume.

"Danno? How are you holding up?"

He didn't answer this time. As the self-proclaimed line leader, Steve's voice was muffled and he couldn't see him, single-file as they were. He should say something, but then again what could Danny possibly say? Instead, Danny merely shook his head at the impossibility of it all as he closed his eyes for a few minutes and focused on his crawl.

_Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat._

Nothing else existed. Not even the outside world. It was gone, gone, gone. Hardly able to focus on the faces of his kids, Danny failed time and again at finding some kind of reason to continue on.

_He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this …._

"You got his, buddy." Steve's voice disrupted the internal chant just as Danny heaved himself forward and promptly cracked his cheek against the heel of Steve's left boot. His eyes flew open at the same time he grunted in surprise and the sudden jolt stopped his forward motion, cold.

"You do. Trust me. You've got this … _we've_ got this."

What did he have though? He kept his head down when the boot in front of him twitched; they were on the move again.

Just what the hell did he have? Swollen hands? Broken fingernails? The foul taste of Hawaiian soil mixed with that of blood inside his mouth and up his nose? An oppressive heat to go along with the oppressively small size of the tunnel, soon to be his coffin?

"Stop!" Steve hissed so loudly that Danny flinched before he realized what was happening. He ducked low and covered his head with his arms, nearly at the last possible millisecond, his cheek pressed tightly into the damp earth as more rocky debris rained down across his body.

_Buried alive_ … he froze where he was, eyes closed as sweat streamed down his face. Larger rocks this time. One, then two fell on his legs hard enough to hurt and he fought panic, thinking he was trapped until he pulled his leg free. He couldn't breathe … couldn't move … and his private demon surged forward with a vengeance.

_He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this …._

"Danno. Trust me. We're almost there, buddy."

He was sure that his heart was beating but that was only because it was thundering inside his chest completely discordant to the angry whine of his breathing. He literally could feel it.

"Danny? You hurt?"

He remained mute. If he dared talk – if he dared to open his mouth – Danny was sure the demon would win because he seriously … _couldn't do this … couldn't … can't …_

"I see light buddy. Let's go … follow me."

Danny tried to swallow, but his throat had practically closed up. He nodded again, his face still pillowed in his arms, vaguely conscious of the fact that Steve had no way of seeing him.

"Now, Danno … let's go. Don't stop."

Those last two words said far too calmly, gently forced him out of his miasma. On a certain level, Danny knew that Steve's worry had ramped up; that something was wrong or could happen. This last collapse had been bigger than before and had lasted longer. Danny could feel the earth he was dragging himself over and the rocks were bigger, heavier … the tunnel far less secure if it had ever been secure when their mis-adventure had first begun.

"Don't stop."

Danny nodded again as he forced his head up but stared in numb denial now at the ground directly beneath his nose. The whine of his breathing was more intense now, bordering on hyperventilation. Each inhale as thick as the humidity in the air.

"Ready? Move. Don't stop."

On auto pilot and muscles leaden, Danny moved his left elbow when Steve's left boot moved. His right elbow managed to move next even as his back muscles started to seize from strain.

_Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat._

He closed his eyes at one point, relying on the rhythm they'd adopted together. At times, Steve would say something, but his words had become nothing more than a buzz, deafened by the roaring sound of the blood pounding in his ears.

_Left elbow - couldn't do this - right elbow, heave body - couldn't do this - up just enough and pull forward - couldn't do this - repeat. Repeat. Repeat._

His eyes were closed when an alarming volume of sea air and saltwater spray hit him head on. Whatever breath he had left inside his lungs left him all at once and he nearly passed out from the shock of it, but he continued to move. The repetition stayed stuck in his head even as he started to slice his hands open on lava rock, and bits of coral.

"Stop. _Stop_ … _Danny_ … _stop_. It's over ...we did it."

He wheezed and fought Steve as he was manhandled around from his stomach. This was wrong, he shouldn't stop. He'd been told to keep going.

_NO! Dont'stop...dontstopdontstopdontstop ... _

"Danny!"

Pulled up and over, he wound up virtually cocooned in Steve's lap, his legs intentionally trapped by Steve's longer ones. His wrists pinned between Steve's hands. Trembling though, muscles straining, Danny argued now the impossibility of _this_ as a loud boom preceded the spray of saltwater which once more cascaded over their bodies. Drenched down to his skin, he shivered from the shock of the cold after the stifling heat of the tunnel.

"Stop … _stop_ … Danny!" The audible whine increased as Danny tried to breathe, air sapped from his lungs once more when the high storm-surge hit the rocks they were perched on. Ice cold water saturated his body and Danny jolted hard, his eyes finally flying open.

"F-fuh's tha?" He all but croaked as another loud boom preceded another drenching. He flinched away still breathing hard, still confused.

"The Pacific," Steve stated as if he'd single-handedly solved the answer to World hunger.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Hugs all! I am going to be behind in responding to your reviews. But I shall! thank you for all of them so far._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve wasn't sure where Danny was - he wasn't chanting the Mets lineup. He wasn't mumbling about Grace or Charlie or what he was going to do to Steve for getting him into such a mess in the first place. After he stopped Danny from crawling across the rocks. Well, _after_ Danny had asked that one barely discernible question which only had managed to communicate his disbelief at seeing the _ocean_, Danny hadn't done or said another damned thing. And if Steve had learned one thing during all his time with Danny, a quiet Williams wasn't a good sign at all. The evidence in front of him and lack of clarity in Danny's eyes also smelled too much like a very real shock to Steve and he needed to pull Danny back before he lost him entirely.

"Shit ... easy. Take it easy," Steve said as his partner fought him, causing a sharp pain to flare through his side. Doggedly, Steve hung on to him, his own speech non-stop.

"Danny? Talk to me ... are you all right?" He asked and wanted to hear some kind of response other than the odd whine and hitch in his friend's breathing. _Nothing_. This was all kinds of bad because all he knew was that Danny was well on his way to hyperventilating and there wasn't too much he could do about it.

"How are you doing?" He'd asked that stupid question so many times, Steve had lost count. He asked it now anyway hoping his voice would bring Danny back to the present. A still dodgy situation to be sure, but a whole sight better than where they'd just been. When Danny had snapped at him last for asking how he'd been holding up, Steve had stopped for a time and just hunkered down and crawled on. Moving as quickly as he could with only a mental map and his natural sense of direction, he'd aimed them towards the sea. He'd ignored other narrow side routes; those barely other tunnels that branched out to only god knew where. He'd kept his own doubts to himself and made decisions - and he'd miraculously won their freedom. He'd done it but been stressed beyond measure, wondering how his partner was faring behind him. Knowing that Danny was suffering and terrified that he'd stop - give up - and that when he, Steve, made it out, Danny simply wouldn't be on his heels.

Unable to see his partner at all, incapable of hearing him? Those things had made Steve hurry along. The sooner he got them out of the tunnels, the sooner he'd be able to see how Danny was doing for himself.

"You have to look at me, Danno," Steve demanded. "Say something!"

As he held Danny in his arms now though, new doubts appeared. Maybe he'd done the wrong thing back inside. Just maybe Steve shouldn't have shut his damned mouth. Maybe he should have goaded his partner more ... kept him talking ... made him fight and argue back ... because _this_ was completely unacceptable.

_Maybe ... other decisions should have been made in the first place._ "Not true," Steve muttered under his breath. He killed the voice in his own head that snidely reminded him that he probably should have let their perp go in the first place; avoided this situation entirely. That way ..._ no ... no! _ Steve's emotions surged and he firmly doused them. Going there served no purpose at all. Besides, why the hell had Danny followed him then?

Steve knuckled his forehead, breathing hard as he looked down into Danny's dirt-smeared and bruised face. The streaks of blood on his lip. Steve shook his head, at a loss. What the hell was wrong with _him_ now? His thinking was off, he wasn't being fair and he needed to focus.

"Danny? How ... how are you doing?" He was asking out of habit now. Rambling like an idiot. He felt helpless and knew it was a stupid, stupid question. He could easily see how Danny was and it definitely wasn't good. While his partner had thankfully stayed on his heels, Steve was clueless as to how he'd done it based on Danny's current state.

"Come on ... come on." Tight-lipped, Steve stared into Danny's wan face feeling every shudder that was rippling non-stop through his partner's body. Other than that first nearly indiscernible question after Steve had been forced to wrap his arms around him to keep him from ... _crawling_ ... across the volcanic out-cropping, he hadn't spoken another word; he hadn't responded to Steve at all. Adding insult to injury, he was on the cusp of hyperventilating, his chest jerking as his body tried to make itself just _breathe_.

"Feel that ... it's great. It's great, right?" He gave Danny a small shake. It was all the physical proof Danny should have needed. Steve welcomed the ocean air and the sting of water as it buffeted him now. The bigger than life forces of nature hitting the rocky cliffside were an astronomical difference as compared to the heavy obtrusive silence of the tunnels. It dried his sweat and refreshed his heat-riddled skin. The coldness of the air, the brisk spray of the salt water… those differences should have smacked Danny square between the eyes to shake him aware and yet, it seemed the opposite had happened. With his gaze blindly locked on the storm surge, he'd completely checked out.

"Hey? Are you hurt?" Steve asked feeling more desperate as he tried to get his partner to focus on him instead. "Anywhere? Anything?" He did a cursory exam of Danny's arms and legs, finding nothing of note. "Hey, buddy. It's over ... you know that right?" His hopes soared when Danny's lips finally moved, but it was a soundless parody for a man that rarely shut up.

"Hey!" Steve's hesitant smile fell away. He pawed a dirt-encrusted hand through his matted hair, sending particles of dirt and even small pebbles in all directions. To say that he was proud of Danny for getting all the way through the old tunnel system dug beneath the old WW2 bunker was an understatement. He wasn't proud of himself though. That inner voice was right. He'd made a bad call that day. A decision which was his alone to shoulder. He was the one accountable for everything that had gone wrong when he should have let the whole damned thing go. Not only had they lost their man, Steve had virtually led himself and his partner into an impossible situation.

"You're good," Steve repeated even if it was partly one of the biggest lies that had ever come out of his mouth. "Look at me ... it's over. _Almost_."

He muttered that last word under his breath as his gaze skittered over their rocky perch. He had a rough idea where they were inside his head and it was still far from optimal. If their perp had made it out, he'd either gone into the rough waters or was still trying to make his way across miles of volcanic rock. Right then, Steve wasn't too sure he cared.

He grunted as he repositioned his upper body, pausing to look down at himself, trying to control his own ragged breathing. He tried to examine his skin, hissing in pain at the lightest of touches. The bullet had hit him just below his tac-vest, low on his side and just above his hip bone. He hadn't thought it anything more than a heavy crease until they'd been forced to remove their protective vests below ground in order to fit through the ever-narrowing tunnel. Ruefully, no _guiltily_, Steve knew that was when he'd begun to lose Danny's focus.

That was also when he'd realized his wound was more than a simple crease. Blood had seeped into his shirt at a steady rate; and the bullet was still lodged inside him. Somewhere.

"Danny? Come on, man," he whispered as he re-focused on his partner's face. "You're good ... you're fine." Physically, that was true. Steve couldn't find much more than a few scrapes and bruises on Danny's body. If there had to be some good news besides getting out of the old tunnel system in one piece, Steve was glad for that. In reality, Danny was far from being really good though and congratulating the man on this major achievement in surmounting his claustrophobia would certainly be premature. The fallout was severe. Steve got it; he sure did. But as blood seeped out from the bullet wound in his own side, its hot ache relentless, he needed Danny functioning sooner rather than later.

Taking a firm hold of the front of Danny's shirt, Steve yanked hard to right Danny's upper body. He choked down the pain and surge of nausea he caused himself.

"Hey! You're good, Danny. Sit up," he demanded, opting to go the tough love route. "Listen to me. I'm sending you for help and you have to go now."

With a keen eye towards the horizon, Steve noted that the sun had already gone below the cusp. In the distance, miles away, the water was cast with a fuchsia- hue. The deep color nearly defied nature and was almost riveting, but there wasn't time to enjoy it. Not now. Not here. Steve shivered as his over-heated body began to argue the cooler affects of the strong offshore breezes. What at first had felt insanely refreshing was changing. Mere minutes later and coupled with the cold spray from the waves and a bad wound, that feeling had begun to devolve into an uncomfortable and very sickly chill.

"Hey! Look at me!" Steve shouted as another shiver sent a sharp spike of pain into his lower back. Head bowed, Steve panted heavily, riding it out. _Don't move; he couldn't risk moving so much._ But valuable time was being wasted as Danny's head lolled on his neck and he sat there, saying nothing.

"If you skirt the shore line, you can find your way up. Get a signal. Call for help," Steve grated out between clenched teeth while he literally frisked Danny to make sure he still had his cell phone. "Where's your phone Danno? Where is it?" He'd lost his own somewhere underground and heaved a sigh of relief when his hand connected with the familiar shape, then his spare weapon.

They were both armed. They could probably communicate with the outside world ... if the cell worked. If they had a signal. Using one hand, Steve found the device shoved down the front of Danny's shirt. He pulled it out, holding his breath until he confirmed it was more than half charged. More good news despite the lack of signal as he'd suspected.

"I'm not walking out of here, Danno. You are. So you need to get your shit together and get moving. Copy that?"

Steve's fist was thick in the fabric of Danny's shirt and he twisted it roughly getting leverage before giving Danny a harder shake. "I took a hit, Danno. The bullet ... it's still inside. You hear me?" He stopped talking when Danny's brow creased heavily. His eyes flickered from Steve's face to his torso and his mouth gaped wide. His expression changed just enough to indicate he was coming back and Steve's smile dared to return.

"Did you hear me?" Steve pressed harder. "Hey!" He shook him again until Danny finally jerked a sketchy nod. "You've got to get out of here! Do you understand what I'm saying? Talk to me!"

"Y-yeah," Danny stuttered badly. His teeth audibly clacked together. His mouth moved and finally formed real words. "Y-you're hit? H-how ... how bad? S-steve?" He blinked rapidly and reached out, his hands fumbling to lift Steve's shirt up.

"Bad," Steve stated with conviction, retching when Danny found the wound only to press his palm firmly to it. "D-Danno ... I... _shit_ ..." Steve briefly whited out as Danny increased the pressure. A necessary action, but far more painful than Steve had anticipated. He rallied though with a growl of anger, determined to push the pain away. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Steve gave Danny one last shake and then pulled him closer.

"Get your shit together and get moving, partner. I need you up and working," Steve's voice was hoarse as he tugged Danny so close, that they were nearly nose to nose. "Go ... take your phone. Take your weapon. Follow the shore line south."

"S-stop the bleeding f-first," Danny stammered at the same time he pulled out of Steve's hands to balance awkwardly on his knees. His upper body swayed and he shakily swiped at his face with the back of one hand. But then he was stripping off his shirt, followed by his belt. He tore the hem with the help of his teeth, even as his breathing continually whined inside his chest with every inhale. One, two and then three long strips of material were soon being folded into makeshift bandages and layered one on top of the other into the wound.

"Filthy ... it's damned filthy," Danny groused as he packed the entry wound because he had no choice. At minimum, he had to try and slow Steve's blood loss. "E-every damned mic-microbe in Hawaii is making a home in there. D-don't think I don't listen to the news either. A-after a storm, run-off can be bad ... I know. I listen."

Steve's lips twitched upwards as the lame excuse for a rant picked up a bit of steam. He watched Danny's face, recognizing the stubborn set to his jaw. The way his teeth were gritted in determination. Danny was gaining ground now, his voice more steady as he shook off his personal horrors and happily _complained_. All of it, music to Steve's ears.

"This is gonna hurt ... ," Danny rasped as he fed his belt around Steve's waist, readying to fasten it tightly in the front. "R-ready?"

Steve didn't say a word; he just nodded. None of the things which Danny had done so far _hadn't_ hurt. He was sure he'd already survived the worst of it though. But as the belt followed the makeshift bandages, Steve was proven wrong when Danny cinched the whole works around his middle.

"Danny," Steve whispered thickly as his head sagged to his chest and his peripheral vision began to quite literally, blacken. "Killin' me here. Easy." He gagged, struggling as nausea twisted his stomach.

"Again," Danny warned him a second before he tightened the belt another notch, apologizing the entire time. "Sorry ... sorry. Hold on." Grunting through the flare of pain, Steve had to close his eyes. Danny's voice became a buzz of white noise in his head. He missed words and questions as he fought merely to breathe.

"Steve?" Danny's tone was softer and fraught with worry for him. "You okay? Steve?"

"Yeah, here," Steve murmured as he cracked his eyes open and looked down at himself. The makeshift bandage was tidy and neat, barring the dirt of course. Danny had even managed to shrug back into his ruined shirt. He looked ridiculous with the uneven tatters barely hitting his ribcage. All of it was the best they'd be able to do with the limited tools at hand. It was good enough and Steve nodded. He tried to smile.

"S'good," he murmured. With a sigh, he rocked his head back, resting against the uncomfortable surface behind him. He needed to rest a bit. Just for a few minutes. "M'sorry, Danny. You've got to go though."

_How the hell had all of this happened?_ It made no sense. None of it. Forcing his eyes open again was a chore. Danny's face was a blurry haze of whites and creams as he balanced there in front of him and Steve groped for his hand. When he found it, he tried to apologize.

"I'm sorry ... I didn't think ..."

"Not now. Which way?" Danny asked softly. He gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze, a half-apology for needing to interrupt him. But that hand was shaking badly, vibrating at an almost scary rate.

"Danno?" Steve looked at him sharply, aware that Danny was with him but still working through issues of his own.

"I'm fine ... later. We'll deal with all of this later," Danny said. He paused though, struggling through a few deep breaths; unable to chance a glance towards the small cave-like opening they'd crawled through. Steve followed his line of sight. The hole ... because that's what it was ... not even a proper cave ... was black as coal. Ominous looking. If you didn't know it was there, you'd easily miss it.

Danny coughed and then choked. That audible wheeze was still in his chest and the sound was frightening. For them, the depths of that hole were far too obvious. They both knew exactly where it was - what was inside - and as Steve looked back to Danny, he saw that Danny was swallowing convulsively and distressingly pale.

"Danny ... you're okay," Steve said. "You are ... you got this. Get moving. Go."

"Sure," Danny grunted the word and then tried to grin, failing miserably. "I'm fine. Peachy, in fact."

Steve barked a short laugh at the choice of word and promptly groaned in pain. He shouldn't have done that and he scrabbled for Danny's hand, their fingers interlocked as pain flared again around his middle. "Go," he whispered when he could find his voice.

"Steve? South?" Danny prodded him, his tone urgent. "You said south?" He had moved closer to plant one hand on Steve's chest, warm fingers splayed wide. With eyes that were still too big and far too glassy, Danny might not have been firing on all cylinders, but he was crouched now. Balanced on the balls of his feet and ready to move.

"South... yeah," Steve grunted the word out. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, weakly pointing in the direction. "That way ... a little over a click. Work your way up the cliff if you need to. You should get a signal easy."

"A click ...right. Perfect," Danny scoffed. "Never mind... Sit tight. The bleeding's nearly stopped. Don't move."

"Copy that. Not m-moving,' Steve whispered tiredly.

"I'll be back," Danny promised as he got to his feet, far steadier than Steve might have expected. "I'll be back ... "

"I know you will," Steve whispered as he watched Danny's back recede into the dusky shadows. "Be careful," he murmured just before his eyes fluttered shut.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_Happy Weekend and the short saga continues ..._

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve's voice had been nothing more than white noise until certain words first made dents and then cracked through the panicked mental recording he'd created for himself. He'd heard the words that mattered though, at first disbelieving them, but eventually understanding them to be true when Steve shook him until his head ping-ponged on his neck. He was functioning, meaning he was on his feet and had a plan of action. However, inside? He was still unsteady and more than a little bit plagued by his recent ordeal.

"He's hurt. 'Course he is," Danny talked to himself as he stumbled along the rocky shoreline, sometimes falling to all fours to negotiate expanses that should have been impossible to cross. His hands were cut and bruised. His breathing had yet to improve, night was falling fast, and still he kept going.

"Get my shit together," he groused. "I _have_ my shit together. I _always_ have my shit together ... at least I did until I met_ jump first, think later "death-wish"_ McGarrett. Then what happens? I tell ya what happens ... I wind up buried alive."

A sharp giggle burst from his mouth but nothing was funny. Steve was _hurt_. Not only hurt though, he'd admitted ... _pain_. Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett did not admit pain. _Ever_. Feeling that bubble of anxiety increasing in his chest, Danny moved even faster.

The bullet from the GSW was still _inside_ and Danny's hasty patching up job might have been necessary to stop the bleeding, but all Danny could think about now was that he'd packed microorganisms into his friend's body. Danny gave a sharp, panicked laugh as he slipped and slid along volcanic rock the size of small cars.

"Here little buddies," he practically guffawed, the whine breaking free from his lungs to get stuck in his throat. "Be free and prosper!" Inside his tired and stressed brain, the little fish-like organisms were having a party in their filthy but happy little world. They were partying hard, inviting others to join on it, and leeching into Steve's bloodstream - about to wreak havoc.

What better environment could the little shits have than a tightly packed and dirt-encrusted wound?

He stumbled on, his breathing off, checking his phone every few steps. No bars. _Nobarsnobarsnobars_ ...

There were plenty of bars in downtown Honolulu though.

Kalakaua Drive had tens of them. All you had to do was pick your poison. Some were darker than others, too. So dark, at times, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Danny didn't like bars or hangouts of any kind like that - like the bunker or the tunnel. He shivered as his brain dared stray back to where they'd just been. He was going to have nightmares for days about being buried alive, if not years.

Therapy never sounded so good. He wondered if he'd have to pass a psych test after this particular case. If he did, he'd fail for sure. Wait. That didn't make sense. Or, did it?

Danny snorted through his nose and then needed to use the back of his hand to wipe the snot away. Either his mind was working at warp speed or it wasn't working at all. He didn't know and wasn't sure it mattered. He had to stop himself from looking behind him because some insane part of his brain kept insisting that the tunnel was _following_ him. It was right behind him, ready to suck him back inside, and he needed ... no, he should ... turn around and look to prove it wasn't.

Suppose it was a trick though and that's all he needed to do to lose himself?

"What the hell is wrong with me? Stupid ... _stupid_," he said to himself. "Come on Williams, it's not there and you know it."

Of course, he knew it wasn't there. He knew that the stress of being stuck inside his worst nightmare had duly rattled his nerves and he'd be in a personal crisis mode for days to come. Nonetheless, he had to work unfairly hard at forcing himself not to look. _Not_ to turnaround. He was losing his mind and ...

"Oh, shit!" He shouted out loud as he was brought up short. He staggered, stubbed a shoe against a craggy rock and fell to a knee. Eyes wide, what he was seeing wasn't fair. He had nowhere to go except back the way he'd come and that simply wasn't an option. He got back to his feet, swaying unsteadily. He stood there for a good few minutes staring in disbelief at the volume of rough water rushing in and out of the tight channel. About twenty-odd feet across, the other side of the rocky shoreline picked up again. But he had no way to get over ... unless he tried to swim across.

"Why? Just ... why?!" He had to do it. He had to swim across. The thoughts about stopping, turning around, going back. Finding another way? They all swirled around his brain but he was already planning his entry point and where he intended to exit on the opposite side. He followed the waves and the swirling depths to the left and his breath caught in his throat. The water was reflecting what was left of the sunset, making the black shine like liquid ink in the coming dusk. While he didn't like it, that wasn't the issue. The painful whine rattled his chest on his next shallow inhale. The crevasse was darker yet. It's maw leading deep under the island. The opposite side wasn't far. Not really. But he'd have to swim it and risk getting swept into ... pulled into ... Danny's addled brain wouldn't finish the thought. He knew what it was though and it didn't need a name.

_So sorry. Been there. Done that._

He wavered briefly, but then was slipping and sliding his way into the water on his butt. He tried to slow his entry but wet rocks and rushing water worked against him and he was pushing off hard towards the other side before he'd wanted to. Heart in his mouth, he sighted his goal ... and promptly got swamped. He went under deep, got twisted around in the current at an alarming rate. He came up sputtering but swimming hard, his eyes now glued to a rocky shelf only about ten feet away.

It was less than ten feet away now. Not far .._.not far ._.. he could do this ... and yet the distance gaped like a chasm. Instead of gaining ground, he felt like he was losing it as the strong counter-currents tugged him away this way and that. Never to his benefit, it seemed as if the water was intent upon taking him into the mouth of the cave.

"Shit! No, no, no!" He shouted in alarm as he was sucked in the direction he most feared at a terrifyingly out-of-control clip and not enough towards the opposite side of the channel. _Not enough ... push! _ Muscles straining, he fought to correct his course on a sharp angle, four feet forward, two feet back but he was nearly at the lip of the damned thing. The monster's mouth was pitch black and the echo inside, terrifying in its intensity. It was deafeningly loud ... far too loud. The heavy boom of wave after wave echoed to him, sapping his energy and destroying his concentration.

"Steve ...," Danny virtually croaked out his friend's name. He couldn't fail. Steve ... in the man's own words, _he wasn't walking out this time_. Danny needed to get his shit together.

_God-dammit, he had his shit together! _Danny fought harder, his muscles screaming, that terrified whine audible as he broke the surface after getting dragged under twice more before his hand slapped volcanic rock. And when it did, his fingers became claws. He scrabbled and kicked in a panic, determined to pull himself free.

Choking on seawater, on his last breath of air, he finally won the battle. He crawled himself away from the channel, wanting to laugh in relief, but knowing he'd sound even more the lunatic than he felt inside. He pulled himself higher and higher, away from the rushing water when a rogue wave dared wet his back, coughing and gagging on the taste of fouled salt. He needed to get up, but feeling breathless and sick from the water he'd swallowed, he needed to rest for a minute first.

He was done. Spent. Finished. As seconds ticked by too fast in his head, Danny he let himself lay there prone, arms spread wide, his cheek to damp rock, his breathing ragged. His hands ached with a vengeance from cuts now worsened by saltwater.

It didn't matter though. He lay there for another brief moment and then twitched.

_He needed to get the hell up._ Thoughts of Steve got him moving once again. One handed and still flat out, he tugged his cell phone from his pocket, thanking god he had an otter-case. He eyed the display, his face scrunched up in distress. The phone was cycling. Still searching for a signal and he held his breath as half a bar gleamed in the corner and then ... cut-out.

"Typical ... just damned peachy." He coughed around a curse as he struggled to his hands and knees, head bowed. His body said no, but he needed more from it and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Teeth gritted, Danny heaved himself up, slipping on the wet rocks. He hurt himself and ignored every flare of pain.

Steve was worse off - far worse - and Danny didn't dare rest again. He didn't matter.

He only had a few cuts and scrapes - and, okay so there was this demon riding on his shoulder - that was admittedly bad. Still, Danny didn't matter; his aches and pains couldn't compare in the grander scheme of things. He drew in a lungful of cold sea air, ignoring the way it made him cough. He needed to clear his head, catch his breath. The air was brisk and he focused on the way the strong wind buffeted his face. A click? He'd probably just about done that distance already. He looked up at the cliff, the side an intimidating hulk of black shadows.

He had half a bar for half a second which sucked, but it was a good sign. He stared harder at the cliffside, seeking a path. He probably didn't even need to go up the entire thing for a signal; just higher. He only had to get a little bit higher.

A shadow caught his attention though. One that was shaped like a human figure, awkwardly bobbing and weaving away from him and Danny literally sneered. It was the guy who'd led them on this not so merry goose-chase.

Everything that had happened wasn't Steve's fault. It certainly wasn't Danny's fault.

But it sure as hell was _his_ and all the fear, pain, worry and exhaustion coalesced into an angry ball of fire inside the pit of his stomach.

Eyes focused on a new target, Danny was on the move again. Payback was a bitch.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: **_ thanks Phoebe for catching an important and quite accidental omission. :-) _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve grimaced as another cold spray of water splattered loudly around him. The sheet of water was heavier than before, adding more discomfort to his already miserable state. He looked at the sky trying to gauge how much time had passed. That sliver of sun was gone now on the horizon. It was dark and decidedly colder. He wasn't sure he could come close to even a decent estimate. His pain had been coming in waves, leaving him weak and only half-alert. It had only recently died down. He wasn't able to do more than guess that it could have been about thirty minutes since Danny had left him. If he was close to that mark, then help should be arriving within the next thirty minutes and only if Danny had encountered no problems.

He blearily regarded the small puddle of water by his left heel. It looked bigger to him; not deeper, but longer and more elongated. He couldn't help flinching as another large wave hit the cliffside below, the spray of water cascading roughly around him.

He had to move himself.

He was shivering nonstop now and rueing this decision. His hips and back were blissfully numb. That numbness extended into his butt and legs. Quite frankly, Steve was good with all of that even if it were partly contrived from not moving due to injury and partly an affect of the elements. He didn't want to readily acknowledge that maybe, just a little bit, the GSW also might have a part to play. Nope. Besides, he was about to prove that the GSW had no role at all.

_This was going to hurt like a sonofabitch. _ Steve held no delusions about that.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, counted to ten and then methodically pushed the air out through his mouth. He did that five times in a row before opening his eyes, his gaze far away. Locked on the horizon.

The tide was indeed creeping up though and the waters rougher than ever before. Gritting his teeth at what was to come, he sat himself more upright and waited out a short bout of vertigo. His hip and side twanged hotly and then abated.

This was good however, both were just a tease of what was to come.

Bracing himself palms down against the rock he was sitting on, Steve found purchase with his heels and then used his arms to lift his lower body. In one motion, he pushed backwards, his eyes still on the horizon. Once, twice and then three times, Steve dug in hard and kept going, ignoring the way his hip and lower back screamed in agony. He faltered once when his heel slipped on iffy stone, rudely jarring him hard enough to lose his cadence. This last push became feeble at best and Steve knew he was done as he shakily wiped the sour taste of bile from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hurry up, Danno," he said to himself as he forced his shaky fingers to check the makeshift bandages around his middle. As he'd suspected, a sticky warmth leaked out from under Danny's belt. Not too bad, but bad enough.

As another wave hit the outcropping and his first reflex was to flinch, Steve literally sighed in relief. As water pelted the rocks, it wasn't reaching him this time. He'd done some additional good for himself without realizing it. With one more tired, pain-wracked shove, he repositioned himself against the large rock which was now sheltering him from the worst of the wind and spray. He rested his head back and allowed his eyes to close while he tried to manage the pain and rediscover that blissfully numb state.

He did the only thing he could do: he waited for Danny to come back for him.

**H50***** H5O**

As he tracked his ignorant quarry, Danny got his signal. He crouched down well below the man responsible for this latest debacle and hid in darker shadows, over-joyed when the guy lost his balance on some scree and fell. Apparently exhausted and worse for wear, the guy yelped and flailed a bit and then seemed to opt to rest on his back, his arms spread wide.

"Yeah, you do that," Danny muttered sarcastically as he hit the digits on his phone, delighted with a sudden display of full bars which held strong.

He called dispatch first, making soft, breathless demands and providing the best directions he could.

"This is Detective Danny Williams. Five-0 Task Force; badge 7576," he quickly explained to the dispatcher. "I have an officer down. A medical emergency. Ping my signal off the shoreline nearest the old Pukui Estate. My partner - Commander McGarrett - is down from a GSW and I need an emergency medical evac _now_ \- _ASAP_. I also have perp in hand and need proper authorities to assist in the arrest."

He glared up the steep slope as he cut the call and then hit speed dial for Lou Grover. Yeah, so that last bit was the tiniest of white lies. But not for long. He tracked the dark figure easily, pleased that his quarry hadn't sensed his presence. This was a surprise which Danny could scarcely wait to deliver.

_"Where the hell are you two!"_ Lou Grover's voice made Danny grin as it reached his ears. _"What are you doing? Having a soiree at that damned Estate? How long does it take to check out a dammed lead?"_

"The lead was good. But we ran into some trouble," Danny said, pausing and still grinning from ear to ear when the older man literally laughed at him over the connection.

_"NO! Trouble? Really? Why am I not surprised?!"_

Despite all of it, Danny had to laugh too, his mood lifting exponentially as he whispered urgently. "Listen, Lou ... Steve's down. I had to leave him. I already called dispatch for an emergency evac," Danny quickly explained. "Make sure it happens. _NOW_. I don't care if it's HPD, Coast Guard, or ... whoever! Just get out here! Ping my signal off the shoreline nearest the old Pukui Estate ... and by the way, I need backup."

_"How bad is our boy?"_ Lou interrupted him while simultaneously spouting orders to the team in the office; scrambling and ensuring Danny and Steve's safety came first.

Danny lost his smile instantly. How bad? He wasn't entirely sure and that near-hysterical giggle suddenly threatened. Danny's brain misfired and for a minute all he could think of was the obvious.

"It's a bullet, Lou. A bullet that made a hole ... there's blood," Danny was stunned that he was back on the verge of losing it. "Bullet's still in him. Just ... he was conscious and lucid. But ... I had to leave him there ... to get a signal...there was no signal ... so ... "

Lucid was a good word. Danny wondered if he sounded even remotely lucid to Lou. Probably not based on what he said next - the man's tone was overly gentle with him.

_"Okay, okay ... and how are you?"_ Lou soothed, already on the move and in a vehicle based on the rise in noise level. _"You okay ... you hurt ... are you in a good spot?"_

"Me?" Danny did almost giggle then. He had no idea how he was and Danny forcibly bit the urge back as his mouth moved soundlessly for a moment.

_"Danny?"_

He took a fast tally of his limbs and blinked. Tattered shirt and just about destroyed pants. _Check_. Oh, he was missing a shoe ... still had the sock though. Cell phone? He was talking on the dammed thing; and he had his sidearm. And the filth of the tunnel? Much of that underground dirt and sweat were now washed off by the not so relaxing _swim_ he'd just taken. But ... the tunnel itself? Unable to help himself, Danny glanced wide-eyed back the way he'd come, breathing hard. The whine in his throat audible if it had ever gone away in the first place.

_Nothingstherenothingsthere. _ His stomach clenched and it took him another long moment to breathe as the darkness closed in on him even as a cold wind buffeted his face.

_"Danny! You still there, man!?" _Lou's voice in his ear jolted him back.

_Shit!_ Now why'd he do that? Why'd he look? The giggle remained on his tongue and he stifled it as he remembered his perp up above him.

"Uh ... yeah. Y-yeah s-still here," he stammered, unsure of how to explain any of that until he realized that he didn't actually need to.

_"Danny ... are you okay? Talk to me ...,"_ Lou pressed harder, the man radiating concern. _"What's wrong?"_

"No. Uh ... m'good," he finally pushed out. "Bumps ... a few bruises. M'okay."

_"All right, all right, good,"_ Lou replied. His tone said he was completely unconvinced of what Danny had just said though. _"Now, you hold on. We got your position. Be there in less than ten. Junior's confirmed evac in the air already too ... they will get to you first. Their ETA is less than three minutes, Danny. You just hang in there all right? Hey ... why do you need backup?"_

"Yeah. Backup," Danny said, utterly relieved with Lou's update which in reality, took just seconds now that he had a full signal on his phone. He was suddenly distracted though as the supine figure above him moved. The guy's legs moved, sending some rocks skidding down the incline towards Danny's position. "Oh no you don't," he whispered under his breath as he glared upwards.

_"Danny? What was that? You just wait there, all right?"_ Lou was saying. "_Danny_!"

"Sure," Danny replied, completely distracted as he readied himself to move again. "Just get here ... "

He cut the connection as Lou shouted his name in warning. He left his phone balanced on a rock. The signal still perfectly strong to lead his rescuers in. He _could_ just wait ... he _could and should_. He'd want anyone else to do the same thing. But that white-hot anger was back inside as he thought of Steve and dared to tap into that stifling sense of claustrophobia.

There was no way Danny was going to wait as he stared at the man's silhouette, his dammed legs moving and twitching as if he were about to get up. He'd be _dammed _if that was going to happen.

Danny huffed a pleased sound under his breath and rose from his crouch, staying in the shadows. He flexed his swollen and bruised fingers, ignoring how badly they hurt. He was _fine_ and he couldn't have asked for a better setup. There was no time like the present and he owned the element of surprise. Besides, backup was on the way.

**~ to be continued ~**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_ I'm sorry this took so long. I appreciate your combined patience since I couldn't seem to get this chapter to feel right. My ongoing thanks to Phoebe for patient coaching. This was definitely hard for me to pull together. I hope you enjoy the finished product!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny's plan A? The one where he snuck up on on the bad guy by sticking to the shadows and striking from a slight upper vantage point? That one - the one he had sketchily assembled in his head which successfully had him arresting said bad guy without a shot be firing?

It didn't happen. Not even close.

As soon as he moved and got a few feet up the slope on his pleasantly designed diagonal line, the guy saw him. And surprise, surprise, he chose to attack Danny before his still rather muddled brain put two and two together to understand just what the hell was going on.

"_Shit_! Hey, hey, hey! Five-0! _Stop_!" Danny's eyes were wide as his mouth went into over drive even if his mind tried to cope with the dark shape windmilling down the slope towards him. "Shit! Stop ... or I'll shoot!"

If he'd privately hoped the guy might give him an excuse, Danny didn't admit it. It had been only an idle hope. A scarcely imagined Plan B and not something he'd actually thought might happen. Now put on the defensive, there was no 'or' - he needed to shoot or potentially be killed. On automatic pilot, Danny dropped his cell phone in favor of his gun. It was in his hand and the safety off in less than five seconds flat. Barely a second after that, he was firing at the rapidly approaching figure while shouting demands at the same time.

"Stop... NOW!" Shocked out of his mind and yet managing to get a shot after shot off, Danny managed to drill at least one hole through the guy's upper thigh.

This Plan B had been neatly contrived in his head but not entirely fleshed out because Plan A had been his 'go to'. Regardless, this backup plan should have worked. Except it didn't.

"Son of a bitch - what the hell's wrong with you!" Danny yelled at the top of his lungs as the guy flailed once when his leg buckled. Astounded, when his adversary recovered two steps later, Danny fought to hold his ground, readying himself to bear the brunt of the force to come. With sheer momentum in his favor, the guy never slowed at all. Going full tilt, he was on top of Danny a heartbeat later, hitting him with what felt like the strength of a freight train.

Unable to entirely brace himself, Danny went down with the guy _hard_ in a jumble of arms and legs, and breathless curses. He had not time to accept being dazed or consider the fact that he might have gotten hurt as he skidded a few feet literally on his back. Both of them were now fighting for possession of Danny's firearm and Danny twisted himself harder still. Despite the way he abused his back on the volcanic rock, Danny turned on his hip, kneeing his attacker in the ribs, muscling his way out first.

He kept his weapon but it wasn't enough as a pair of meaty knuckles glanced nastily off his cheekbone, rocking Danny's head on his neck. With a pained grunt, he struck back with an elbow and then put his gun to a new use when it misfired. Pistol-whipping the guy in the side of the head as he registered the tonal_ thwump-thwump-thwump_ in the distance, Danny struck back ruthlessly.

The chopper was close and Danny needed to end this now. He grunted breathlessly though as the guy flung himself forward, knocking Danny backwards only to straddle his chest, apparently unperturbed by Danny's defensive counter-attacks.

He lunged forward across Danny's body with both hands, grabbing and then gaining Danny's right wrist ... going for his gun again. Twisting the joint viciously, his fingernails digging deeply into the back of Danny's hand, he seemed determined to win and Danny felt his fingers begin to slip.

_No, this simply wasn't going to happen and he was dammed sick of __everything__ going wrong that day._

Gasping for air and fighting his lungs ongoing refusal to work correctly, Danny met the man blow for blow. Steve was hurt and it was this guy's fault. The tunnels? Yeah, Danny's own anguish were also this guy's doing ... besides as he'd told Lou Grover, the lead had been a good one. It had panned out and what was happening now proved that the guy who was slowly trying to detach Danny's wrist from his arm was the _murderer _they'd been spending _weeks_ trying to find.

Why else had the guy run? And why -_ for God's sake_ \- would he be attacking Danny so aggressively, trying to kill him as he intentionally head-butted Danny squarely in the forehead?

There was an explosion of light and thick pain and Danny whited out. A millisecond of time when he couldn't hear; couldn't see and simply forgot how to breathe. His mouth gaped wide like a gaffed fish. His thinking brain checked out. Only his fingers worked: that reflexive use of muscle memory which forced each digit to cling tenaciously to his weapon. As the heavy odor of copper filled his nostrils from a savage back-handed slap, Danny's white-hot anger surged forward again. Enough was enough and he forced himself back to the present. Fighting when a part of him thought he couldn't fight anymore. He just didn't have time for this!

_Steve_ was waiting for him and he couldn't afford to squander another second. So as he registered the helicopter's arrival, Danny scissored his legs hard, catching the guy off balance enough to free one hand and go for his throat.

"You should have given up the easy way," Danny wheezed as he lashed out, fighting dirty now to gain the upper hand. An elbow connected to the guy's nose, breaking its bridge on contact, sending a spray of blood through the air. A second elbow strike to the same side, split the skin along his cheekbone. He ignored the choked wet cry as he viciously snapped a one-handed punch into the base of the man's vulnerable throat and the guy finally went down like a hewed tree.

"You son of a bitch," Danny spat out blood as he staggered up, swaying on his feet, his focus solely on the twitching body. "Stay down ... I swear to God, you need to stay down."

He swiped at the thin line of reddish spittle that stained his chin. He forgot about the rescue party and the helicopter. He forgot everything as the man began to crawl to his hands and knees. And with a growl of anger, Danny attacked not waiting to see which one of his punishing blows might have already leveled the man back down to the ground.

He was blind and deaf to everything until hands grabbed him from behind. A pair on each arm, another set around his waist. Yanking and tugging him away from the now unmoving body, Danny was dragged backwards a good many feet. It took him minutes on end to realize that help had really arrived and that young HPD Officer Pua Kai was literally shouting his face.

"Hey! Detective!" Pua shouted at him. "Detective Williams! Ease up ..._ ease up!_ You're going to kill him!"

Heaving in lungfuls of air, Danny found himself barely on his feet. Adrenalin was pounding through his injured body but he was already starting to shake again. The hands which had pulled him away were now mostly holding him up.

"Pua?" He whispered brokenly as he squinted his eyes, staring hard at Pua, reassuring his beleaguered brain that the young man was really there.

"It's all right," Pua was saying. "We'll take it from here. Can you tell us where Commander McGarrett is though? Do you have his location?"

"Steve. Yeah," Danny answered as he willed his body to work. He needed to get back. He took a step forward and then another, cognizant that not all the helping hands were willing to let him go. But he quietly insisted as he shook them off. With a curt nod to the downed criminal, Danny blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on the man's bloodied and bruised face. He now looked like he'd gone through a meat-grinder and he would need medical attention for days to come, but Danny had no time for apologies and quite honestly, the guy certainly didn't deserve any at all.

"Take this guy into custody ... I need the chopper ... Steve's close but it's the only way to get to him," Danny said, ignoring how tinny his own voice seemed to sound. He shook that off too. It had to just be his ears because he was fine ... a little juiced up on adrenalin, but fine.

"Detective? Are you sure?" Pua asked while daring to take Danny's arm. He made a distinct show of looking Danny up and down. "Can't you just direct them in ..."

"No," Danny said as he cut the officer off. "No, no I need to go and show them ... now. Grover and Reigns are just a few minutes out .."

"Yes Sir. I know," Pua quickly replied. "And HPD has a second chopper en route as well. But Sir, you look like you need medical attention."

Danny wanted to say something smart. Something wise to put Pua in his place, but as he looked into the officer's kindly round face, all Danny could think to do was say the unexpected.

"Thanks, but I can wait," Danny said. He started to walk, off balance and walking tenderly across the rough surface with only one shoe on his foot. "Stay with him, Pua. I'm putting you in charge of this arrest. Right now though I have to get to Steve ... I've got to get him out of there. Is medical on board?"

"Yes. Yes of course, Sir," Pua answered as he helped Danny into the chopper. He nodded once and then backed up, signaling to the pilot to take off. His face looking upwards was the last thing Danny saw before he turned away to give the pilot and co-pilot directions back towards the cave-like tunnel ... towards where he'd been forced to leave his wounded partner to bring back help.

As they rounded the curve and crossed the crevasse which Danny had been forced to swim, Danny leaned forward, anxious to land. By air, where he'd left Steve was a short hop, skip and a jump. But as he stared down at the precise spot, he felt all color drain from his face. His head throbbed in direct relation to a new rise in the level of stress he was under.

"Oh no. _Nonono_ ...," he choked out softly. With the helicopter's bright spotlight, he could see everything. He could clearly see that things had changed and not for the better.

"Is this right?" The pilot asked over his shoulder. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure! That's the place, but where is he? Where the hell is he?" Danny shouted back as the spotlight lit up the craggy cliffside. He was absolutely sure they were in the right place. Positive in fact. Yet there was no sign of Steve and where the black hole should have been - _no, it was there and that feeling of anxiety twisted his chest at the mere thought of the place_ \- was now threatened by a tide high with an abnormal storm surge.

"Are you sure ...? Detective?"

Danny was stricken as he stared back at the man and his co-pilot. Next to him in the rear, the two emergency medical technicians were equally on edge. Ready to act, but where was their patient? They were looking at Danny with doubtful expressions. He heard Steve's voice in his head demanding that he get his shit together and Danny forgot how to breathe. He _had_ his shit together. He did ... he definitely did.

"Detective? Is this the right place?" Prodded again, Danny nodded because yeah, he was sure this was it. But if Steve had been swept out to sea? That was something neither of them had considered when Danny had left him. And what the hell? He hadn't even been gone all that long. Or, had he?

"Come on! Land this thing!" Danny shouted as he rediscovered his voice and they made another wide curving arc much to his increasing level of dismay. Why the hell hadn't they landed yet? "What are you doing? We need to get down there!"

"I'm trying to figure out _where_ to do that!" The pilot said. "It's not easy ... it's a bad zone. We might have to drop in; I need to be sure I can do that safely before I put my men on the ground. Don't forget that when we go down ... we have to come back up ... and with an injured man!"

"Well figure it out - do something!" Danny was back to shouting, his eyes huge, that breathless whine stealing the air from his lungs as he stared at the desolate rocky landscape searching for any sign of his partner.

"Come on, come on. Do something," he muttered as he sat there helplessly and seemingly asking for the impossible.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny was opening the helo's door before the skids even touched rock. It had taken the pilot and co-pilot a decent amount of time to mutually decide on their LZ. Danny understood their need for caution but he was sick inside.

"It's this way," he said as the medics gathered their gear, including a basket stretcher which he'd recommended. They would need it. Once they found him, Steve wouldn't be walking anywhere. "Come on ... hurry up. Please." Each of them had a flashlight and he shone the beam of his over the great expanse of rock. It was blacker than black now and glistening brightly back at him.

He hop-limped over the uneven ground, slipping a bit without a shoe on one foot. He fell to a knee and scrabbled himself up again. He was off his game now for good; if he'd ever been on it in the first place and he probably should have stayed behind. He knew that. But they still doubted him and he wasn't sure he could provide accurate directions. Hell, he doubted himself and that was dangerous mental territory because he couldn't afford that and Steve could ill-afford a partner that had become a liability.

Anyway, and no matter the reason - right or wrong - there was no way on earth that Danny would have stayed behind at that point. Sure, he was running on fumes and something inside him was beginning to niggle a warning about the black hole he was traipsing back towards. But those things about being a little worse for wear didn't matter and his internal fears about an old dilapidated escape tunnel were only driven by that very same physical fatigue. He was fine. The worst was behind him now and he could focus on getting his partner the help which he desperately needed.

So Danny got out of the chopper.

He put one foot in front of the other and stubbornly tried to push it all under the proverbial mat. He moved out ahead of the medics, trusting they'd follow him as he traced a line back to where he'd started, swinging his flashlight in a wide arcing beam from left to right. He tried to argue his negativity but another worry was gnawing at him that too much time had gone by. But how could it have? He'd never stopped moving. Help had been prompt. His mental clock put elapsed time at no more than forty-five minutes, if that. That included the time it had taken for the pilots to agree on where to land. And yet, everything felt different because they hadn't sighted Steve right away. It was darker out; the surf higher. Anxiety started to tug at his already iffy ability to breathe correctly. He found himself wheezing again as he limped along faster, fighting his negativity. All Danny could think about now, as he splashed through areas of ankle-deep water, was Steve and how long he'd been left alone, wounded and without help of any kind. His mind tried to wander down a bad, evil road and on reflex, Danny began to call out for his partner.

"Steve!" Danny shouted out Steve's name as he got closer to the tunnel's egress. "Where the hell are you?" His eyes skittered nervously over the matte black of the hole, refusing to consider that Steve might have gone back inside. No, his partner certainly wouldn't have done that. But Steve wasn't where he'd left him either and Danny's heart was in his mouth as he waved the beam of his flashlight across the rocks.

Steve wasn't there at all. He nervously glanced towards the open ocean and shook his head to the contrary. That couldn't have happened. Danny simply didn't believe that Steve had been swept out to sea. The water wasn't deep enough. Not _rough_ enough ... not really close enough ... and he forced his achy body to move.

Steve might not be precisely where he'd left him, but Steve was definitely still _there_. Danny sensed it.

"Where are you? Steve!" Danny shouted. "Steve!" He frowned thoughtfully as he considered the rocky outcrop. What other options would his partner have exercised to get out of the elements? How far could he have gotten? On impulse, he shone his light higher, up to the left. Just one or two feet above the tunnel's entrance where he finally saw the tip of a booted heel, then a leg. His cry of relief was swallowed by the sounds of the waves.

"He's here! Here!" Danny shouted over his shoulder to the two medics, encouraging them to move faster. "Come on!" Then he was virtually crawling up the few extra feet and falling to his knees.

"Thank God," Danny whispered as he swept the bright beam over Steve's body, noting that the bandage was still in place. Aware enough to be surprised by the relative lack of wind and ocean spray; the oddly protective nature of this tiny natural alcove. His stomach lurched though when he realized that Steve's eyes were closed. His face lax. He almost looked like he was sleeping as Danny reached out to check for a pulse. Relieved beyond measure when his fingers felt the steady thrum in his partner's neck under ice-cold skin.

"Steve? Hey, buddy? Can you open your eyes for me?" Danny pleaded, practically holding his breath until Steve's hands twitched and his brow furrowed in discomfort. Movement faded and returned, and Danny pushed harder, demanding now that his partner open his eyes. "Steve? I need you to wake up, babe."

It took a few more tries, but soon Steve's eyelids were fluttering. His eyes were opening and locking on Danny's. "You scared the crap out of me", Danny said as he laid his hand on Steve's chest. "I couldn't find you for a minute. Next time send a forwarding address, would-ya?"

"Danny?" Steve breathed out. He sighed, then his lips twitched upwards as if trying to smile. "You're back."

"Yeah, of course I'm back," Danny replied, wanting to laugh but feeling sick to his stomach as the medics crouched down next to them. Steve was pale and his skin, like ice. His voice was weak and Danny couldn't even try to return his partner's sad attempt at a smile. Instead, he opted to go for the obvious.

"How are you doing? I brought a few friends with me to get you the hell out of here."

"M'good ... except ...," Steve said tiredly as he blinked up at him. " 'cept ... I can't feel my legs."

"You can't _WHAT_?!" Danny all but squawked, wanting to vomit on the spot as his mind jumped to one particular conclusion. "How is that _good_ exactly?"

"Detective? Let us in here ... let's get him checked out. We need to scoop and run," the older of the two medics said. Scotching backwards on his knees, eyes huge as saucers, Danny was pushed aside to watch the goings on from behind the medical team.

"Well, this is a nice, tidy, little hidey-hole," the younger remarked as he hunkered down, too. "How did you two wind up out here anyway?"

Danny blanched, not only refusing to answer, but also refusing to look over his shoulder. He didn't have to say a word though as the medic's partner got down to business.

"Commander McGarrett, how are you doing? Are you in any pain?"

"My legs ... they're numb," Steve replied. His lips twitched upwards again as he tried to find Danny. "Only hurts when I move."

"That does not make me feel better," Danny moaned in disgust as he crawled himself to his feet. He stood to the side, hunched over and shaking from stress. He took a deep breath and then another but couldn't find a way to calm himself down.

"You can't feel them or they're numb? Since when? Since you moved yourself or before?" Danny spouted suddenly. "Steven, I swear to god if you made me crawl through that hell-hole …and go for a swim inside an egg-beater just now … walk the length of this dammed rock in one shoe to _find_ you ..."

"Danno, calm down," Steve said as the medics began to check his wound, his vitals and run an IV. If his voice sounded stronger, Danny found little comfort. "It's not that I can't _feel_ them; it's more like they're a little bit numb from sitting here so long," Steve tried to explain, apparently hesitant to say more until prompted by one of the medics.

"Show me," the man said. "Your partner's right ... we're talking about two different things here. Can you move your legs, Commander?"

"Yeah. See." Gritting his teeth in order to prove his point, Steve moved one knee and then the other. He waggled each ankle from side to side to further that proof, but he certainly wasn't going to do more than this. "Hurts ... a lot ... I'd rather not move. But yeah, I can feel them; I can."

"Great choice of words, Einstein," Danny complained petulantly. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Shut up, Danno," Steve groused back. "It's just from sitting here so long, waiting on your sorry ass."

"My sorry … _what_?!" Danny shouted back, eyes wide.

"Commander! Tell me. What else am I dealing with here? It matters with how we decide to move you," the medic stated firmly, effectively derailing the both of them.

"My back's on fire now," Steve rushed out one loud exhale. "Hip. Lower back … it's on _fire_ just above my hip and wraps to my lower back; so, I haven't actually wanted to move. Ergo, Daniel ..."

Danny glared at Steve as he dared tried to make light of things by using one of his own words against him. "Ergo ... so, yeah, my legs? They _were_ just numb; when I move 'em – cause I can - the pain now goes into my back."

Danny leaned forward, hands on his knees, feeling wobbly as he eyed the wound and watched the medic inspect the entry point and re-apply a better, more pristine bandage. Frankly, that meant little with the bullet still inside. Steve was far from being out of the woods. He'd lost a decent amount of blood. The wound was dirty and would need a good debriding. Incapable of hiding his impatience when Steve grimaced and moaned in pain, Danny rolled his eyes in frustration.

He inhaled sharply on the heels of Steve's continually panted moans. It was time to go. He looked from one medical professional to the other. They were busy and getting the basket stretcher positioned to move his partner. But, time was ticking away. That hole was behind them lurking, teasing the illogical part of his brain. How long did a scoop and run take?

"Yeah, okay. If you're done torturing him, can we go now?" Danny suddenly asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm which he didn't seem able to control. "Because you know … I could do that, too. I don't need a medical degree and trust me, I have more of a reason to torture him than you do right now. Besides, all that poking and prodding which you're doing? They're just gonna do it all over again at the hospital."

"D-Danno … give 'em a b-break," Steve stammered after garnering a bit of air with a concerted effort. "He's sorry … he is," Steve whispered to the team only wilt under Danny's next words.

"Not sorry, Steven," Danny said, teeth clenched. _He was though. He was_ but couldn't stop as he gestured to himself. "I'm not. Not a bit. Look at my shirt! I had to go _swimming_ ... lost a shoe ... took down our perp who wouldn't go down ... brought you help ... so, we need to go. _Now_." Danny knew he might very well be talking gibberish but he just couldn't stop. Breathing hard, he looked to the medics, then pointed to his downed partner.

"And by the way, even though he's negligent as hell, try not to drop him ... my liver's in there."

"Wait. What?" Steve asked incredulously as the medics moved him to the stretcher. He retched and moaned as soon as they lifted the basket, his hands clenching into fists which only served to upset Danny even more. Before he knew what he was doing, Danny was practically shouting.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down again, Steven! But oh wait! I'm sure you're just peachy … ready to run a marathon … do the Iron Man. Oh hell, what am I saying! I'll get you a plane ticket and you can swim the English Channel; I'm sure you haven't done that particular trick yet!" He stood there then trembling, his adrenalin racing until he just snapped off. The words dried up inside him along with his temper.

Ears buzzing with white noise, Danny tried to whisper an apology of sorts. Then he started walking in the general direction of the chopper, still feeling sick. Still off-balance and scarcely using his flashlight to watch where he was going. Behind him, he heard Steve apologizing for him and his actions. It shouldn't be Steve and yet Danny just lacked the energy to do a dammed thing at that point. His weak excuse for an apology would just have to do. But maybe it was good enough when he heard the older medic's simple reply and dimly registered the smile in the man's voice.

"He'll be okay." He heard Steve say. "He's … he's …"

"Your partner."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_I hope everyone celebrating the 4th had a wonderful time w. friends and family. My apologies for the delay here. Phoebe can attest to the annoying length of time it took me to get this chapter feeling that it was finally good enough to go up. _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve was vibrating with pain by the time they got him into the chopper. He lay there, wiped out, fighting nausea and trying to control his breathing as a headset was placed over his ears, more to protect his hearing than allow him to communicate. Because even if he tried to speak, combined with the loud ambient noise of the chopper, no one would be able to understand a word due to the oxygen mask covering half his face.

_'Shit,'_ Steve moaned under his breath as the basket was secured into place. He hissed as his body was accidentally jolted. His only current comfort was the silver Mylar emergency blanket that he'd been wrapped in. He was still shivering. He was still ice cold and stressed from pain, but no matter how small, the blanket offered him some protection. It was slowly storing up some of his body heat no matter how little he seemed to have at that point. That was it though. His helpless sojourn across the slick and sorely uneven terrain to the idling helicopter had awoken every nerve-ending affected by the gunshot wound. No longer happily numb, Steve swore right then and there that this was the most painful injury he could recall ever having.

"Detective? Detective ... are you all right?"

The unexpected question aimed at his partner got Steve's attention though. He forced his eyes back open.

"What?" He asked reflexively. "Danny?"

The lack of answer pinging around within his headset masquerading as dead air and white noise forced a frown to flit across his tight-lipped mouth. He moved his head, grimacing in pain as he searched for his partner while also trying to identify the speaker.

"I'm going to help you out, Sir. All right ... here we go."

Steve soon identified the questioner as the older of the two medics. This man, _Myers_, Steve knew his name now, was senior on the team. Myers was crouched between the two of them, one hand resting lightly on Steve's knee, the other on Danny's which was jigging nonstop. If the senior medic wasn't pleased about Danny's lack of reply, Steve certainly didn't like what he saw. Slicked with sweat, Danny's knee wasn't the only thing shaking. Severe muscular tremors were rippling through Danny's upper body. His breathing was off - it looked as though Danny was fighting just to get his lungs to work with each and every shallow inhale. And when he did manage to garner a breath of air, there was an odd sharply whined quality to it.

Steve pegged it as a panic attack instantly.

"Detective? Try to control your breathing. Slow it down ... you have to slow it down."

Steve stared at the strange tableau, his eyes flitting from one to the other. Myers was failing at getting Danny to acknowledge him. Worse yet, Danny had apparently stopped talking. Entirely. Much like when they'd made it out of the tunnels, Danny had shut down again. Gone somewhere inside his head. Other than the odd whine in his chest, Danny'd become far too quiet. The panic attack was in full swing. Steve shook his head, somewhat helpless to advise Myers that his partner was well past a certain point of return.

Worry spiking, Steve squinted upwards trying to get a better read on the situation.

"Detective Williams? Can you hear me? I need to know that you're with me ... do you know where you are, Sir?" Myers pushed and prodded until Danny's face creased in what looked like confusion and his mouth finally opened. He panted heavily, chest heaving. While the reply was precisely what Steve might have predicted, it certainly wasn't what Myers wanted to hear.

"Yeah." That was it. One, very simple flat word. Monotone. Completely unconvincing that he knew a dammed thing and the medic pushed one final time.

"Good. Okay. So where are you?"

Steve's frown deepened when he more sensed than heard a faint mumble that sounded like the words ... sick or dizzy. Certainly still not the desired answer to Myers' question about where he was. In fact, Myers was already moving as Danny's upper body swayed dangerously to the side. An instant later his shoulders simply slumped forward and the medic was intercepting his newest patient's slide to the deck. If not for his quick action, Danny would have literally taken a header into Steve's lap.

"Easy, easy. Lie back. This is as good a spot as any, Detective," the medic stated quietly as he gently pushed Danny against the bulkhead, supporting most of his weight. "I'm just going to help you lay flat. Take your vitals."

As lifeless as a puppet, eyes still closed, Danny didn't do a thing as his legs were lifted and he was positioned flat across the long bench seat. Even on his back, his body quaked and his chest continued to heave in that disconcerting off-kilter way. Danny was now well on his way to hyperventilating and Steve cursed under his breath for the both of them.

"Hopper? He's shocky. I need the O2 ... and toss me a cuff," the medic demanded of his partner as he simultaneously un-slung his stethoscope from his neck for use. He watched and listened helplessly to the two medics as Myers wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Danny's bicep, his expression intent. "Pulse is too rapid. He's cold ... clammy. I need a thermal, too."

"Danno," Steve whispered as the activity over his partner escalated at a startling clip and a warming blanket was tucked around Danny's body, too. Limited by what he could do and reeling from the pain of his own injury, Steve managed to at least reach out and touch the man's arm, his silent question obvious.

"It's all right, Commander," Myers said with a sympathetic smile as he easily deciphered Steve's concern. "This was just a matter of time. He's run himself ragged."

_This was a matter of time_? Steve scowled. Hampered by the oxygen mask, he pointed towards his partner, demanding more.

"Stress. Exhaustion. Exposure," the medic clipped off each word as explanation. "He's shocky. I know he was in a bit of a scrape with your perp and he has some minor injuries to prove it, but what else happened down here? Something else must have happened."

Danny had been in a fight? What had Danny spouted before? _He'd taken down their perp?_ Yeah, that was it. But there had been more, too. Much of the dirt and grime from the tunnel were gone and Danny was soaking wet and shivering. He was definitely in shock. But he'd also bitched about having to go for a swim. Complained about a missing shoe. Steve found himself frowning at the bruises and scrapes on the back of Danny's hands and his knuckles.

None of it made sense.

As Hopper puttered above him, getting approval to push morphine and talking nonstop to the hospital, Steve studied Danny more closely. His eyes wandered up from Danny's hands and arms to the cuts and scrapes on his chest and face. He got past the sheen of sweat to see the near-gray complexion and the glimmer of fresh blood staining Danny's lip. Even from where he was laying, Steve could make out the swelling beginning to darken along his partner's cheekbone.

Steve scrubbed at his face and then intentionally knocked the oxygen mask off to the side. The medic's question might have been rhetorical but in truth, it was valid.

"Hey! Don't do that!" Hopper objected as Steve pushed his hand aside.

"Wait ... panic attack. He's having a panic attack," Steve explained breathlessly. "Tunnels ... he was bad before. Claustrophobia."

At first Myers clearly didn't understand and Steve could hardly blame him. "Tunnels?" But then his eyes lit up and he nodded. "Those _old_ tunnels? They still exist after all these years?" Myers asked.

"Yeah. Well sort of," Steve failed at laughing as a spike of pain left him briefly gasping for air. The tunnels were barely that at all and even he was harboring residual feelings of anxiety for what they'd just gone through. For the sheer fact that they almost hadn't made it out. He swiped at Hoppers' hand again when the younger man tried to replace the oxygen mask. "Wait," Steve insisted. He took a measured breath and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply against a sharp knife-like pain. He exhaled slowly through his nose, adamant about finishing what he needed to say even if it didn't directly help his partner. Even if he might be telling civilians just a bit too much.

"Jason Cowell. We found him here ... a lead pointed us here. To the Estate. There's an old bunker on the property. Cowell ran. We followed ... there was an exchange of gunfire. I thought I just got creased ... but ... _but_ there's also an old system of tunnels under the bunker. We followed him in. We couldn't get out and had to keep going. The tunnels dumped us out here on the cliff-side. We only got lucky. And ... Danny. He was in bad shape, but I sent Danny for help."

"Cowell? The guy that supposedly murdered those college kids? He's mental!" The younger medic exclaimed, his eyes wide. He held Steve's oxygen mask in the air, his hand frozen as he looked from Steve to his mentor. "Seriously?"

"The same and we were on him. We were good until he took off ... he knows this place," Steve replied. "But Danny ... he's claustrophobic and the tunnels. They're old ... tight ... He was in rough shape and now ... are you telling me that Danny ... that he and _Cowell_ ... they _fought_?"

"Steve? M'fine ... m'good. Do you have 'em? Do you have Steve?" Danny asked Myers unexpectedly rousing at the sound of Steve's voice. He forced himself up to an elbow, swaying in place to a sickly rhythm. He awkwardly shoved against Myers' hold until his eyes met Steve's. Pale and sweaty, Danny stared at Steve from where he partially lay. "Steve," Danny mumbled. He stared hard at Steve, knuckling his own sternum, his expression full of distress but also no small portion of relief. "Steve? Steve. You okay?" Fist to chest, his knuckles as white as his face, Danny looked at Steve as if he might be a figment of his imagination.

"Detective, lay back," Myers tried to insist as Danny's breathing adopted a worse note.

"No," Danny refused, his eyes locked on Steve's face. "You all right?"

Not knowing where he found the word in his brain, Steve's lips twitched upwards. He stared back at his badly roughed-up partner and felt a tremendous surge of absolute pride. Ignoring the pain that swirled through his hip and back, Steve nodded. He shrugged and then made the blandest statement he could.

"I'm downright peachy, Danno. How the hell are you?" Steve's lopsided grin grew larger when Danny's mouth fell open in complete bewilderment. He had to bite back a laugh as Danny's head bobbled on his neck and his lips moved as he apparently tried to find a suitable response.

"He's peachy," Danny eventually breathed out. He switched his gaze towards the older medic. "Did-ja hear 'em?" Myers nodded as Danny choked out a tired laugh and then collapsed off his elbow. Through the tinny sound of their headsets everyone was smiling at Danny's next whispered words.

"Peachy's ... fan-_fucking_-tastic. And for the record, so am I. Just ... peach-ily perfect."

"_Peach-ily_? Okay, enough. You two need to take it easy," Myers said with a helpless chuckle. "Our ETA is in five ... can I ask you two to please stay '_peachy_' at least until you're off my boat?"

"Yeah, sure." Steve huffed a weary laugh and closed his eyes as Hopper replaced his oxygen mask. He was content to do what Myers asked until Hopper spoke up, then he was squinting his eyes opened again.

"Except for Cowell," Hopper said. "He ain't so peachy at all. Is he, Detective Williams?"

Danny's eyes had closed but he was listening based upon the ghost of a smile which was still plastered to his lips. Even as tremors continued to course through his body, Steve was sure that he saw a sketchy but very agreeable nod.

Steve raised a questioning eyebrow, wanting more which Hopper gladly provided.

"Uh, yup. He took him down big time," the younger man said. He gave Steve a wry smile, one eye focused on Danny as Myers nodded his approval over Danny's slightly improved breathing while taking time to re-tuck the warming blanket around his shoulders.

"He beat the ever-livin' crud out of 'em. Took one of our guys and two of HPD's to pull 'em off," Hopper added thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" Steve more mouthed than said as he stared upwards into Hopper's face. He grinned, more than pleased by the news. The younger medic was smiling from ear to ear, looking pretty damned pleased himself. He patted Steve soothingly on the shoulder as they approached the landing pad on the hospital's roof.

"So uh, yeah. Jason Cowell? NOT peachy."

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_hmm. A happy respite before ending this lovely story? Or is there something on the horizon? Hmmmmm? Have to ask the bunny ..._

_Sorry for the delay. Just sold my condo so this story could slow down even more. Thanks in advance for your patience... and thanks to Phoebe for the beta and catching the earlier inconsistencies. I appreciate the help!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"Shut up Wilson," Steve said as he waved an idle hand towards Danny. "And go home. Take a shower and shave ... get some real sleep and come back later. Come back wearing actual clothes."

Danny was dressed. Sort of. With no new or clean clothes handy, he was back to wearing his ruined shirt and equally destroyed slacks. He also was now completely shoe-less and wearing clunky, plain hospital nubby socks. Steve barely had the strength to wonder where either of Danny's shoes had wound up. It probably didn't matter as he watched his partner try to finger-comb his hair. It was a woefully lost cause and Steve grinned as Danny glared back at him.

"I'm fine now," Steve insisted. "I can't believe you're still here." While Steve had been operated on to remove the bullet which had painfully found residence in his hipbone, his partner had been housed in a spare room. He'd been re-hydrated, forced to rest on a gurney, and molly-coddled until his vitals had found a more happy normal.

Hours had gone by which Steve measured by each of his waking '_events_'.

Arrival in the E.R. _Check_. Surgery. _Check_. A long-ish stint in post-op and now a somewhat woolly-headed waking in his own ICU room. _Check and check again. _

Based on his very iffy estimations, at least seven hours had gone by. And in those seven very _event_-ful hours, Danny had been cleared to leave, and yet here he was in the ICU. Hovering like a helicopter parent and looking light-years away from properly having been cleared. At least in Steve's not so humble opinion. Nevertheless and since Steve's opinion on the matter didn't count, Danny'd been released to go home but apparently refused to do so. Not because he didn't feel well, but because he needed to see Steve with his own two eyes. And Steve understood that, too.

"I'm fine. Go home, Danno. It's been hours ... you don't need to be here anymore." Steve yawned to prove his point.

"Where else would I be? Huh?" Danny retorted. "And how can you be fine? You had a bullet inside you ... the doc is worried about infection. You're going to be here for _days_ ..."

Steve grinned fondly at his partner as he laced his fingers neatly over his chest. Quite contentedly, he listened to Danny's voice rise. He watched the bruised hands flutter through the air as a harried-looking nurse entered the room. Eyes wide, she was shushing them both from the start.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked in a hushed whisper. "Not even dawn! Please keep it down!"

"Yeah, keep it down and shut up Wilson. Listen to the nice lady," Steve repeated as the tattered ends of Danny's ruined shirt swayed back and forth. Danny looked ridiculous. He looked like he'd just been rescued from a deserted island. Steve's grin grew.

Wilson fit. Perfectly.

"Shut up _Wilson_?" Danny scowled and folded his arms over his chest. The shirt rode up higher, showing off the cuts and scrapes scattered across Danny's stomach. "You're high on drugs."

"And you're not - but you should be. At least you'd be happier," Steve chortled comfortably. He was feeling very fine despite what he'd noticed about his partner's appearance. "And yeah ... I'm going to call you Wilson starting today."

"Wilson?" Danny repeated in disgust. "I don't like it."

He was sure he hated it based on the face he made but didn't know why ... _yet_. Steve could tell by the obstinate expression, marred by tired and worried eyes, that his partner was confused and forcing his brain to kick in. He might even have a headache based on the way he was squinting. Leave it to Danny, though, to focus on the one odd-ball comment.

"Yup. Wilson." It was hard for Steve to remain serious and not tease his partner though he did try to stop himself. As drugs were pushed into his system to manage his pain, Steve felt too good. So he smirked happily. He watched as Danny examined himself, eyes narrowed in concentration. He rocked in place looking every bit as if he might fall over. The squint increased and then he held up an imperious finger as he finally caught Steve's reference.

Here it was, the_ 'a-ha!'_ moment and Steve raised an amused eyebrow.

"Wilson was the damned soccer ball, you goof. The Tom Hanks character was … Chuck … Chuck ... _Something_."

"Wilson!" Steve chuckled as his partner finally reasoned it out. "That's the one!"

"I'm not a dammed soccer ball ..." Danny spat back. "Though I feel like one." He scrubbed at his hair, wincing at the tangles and managing only to make it worse.

"Volleyball," the nurse muttered under her breath as she checked Steve's bandages and various lines. She was loud enough for Danny's head to swivel like a top in her direction.

"What?" Danny blurted, almost jumping on the poor woman.

She shrugged, completely at ease. "In the movie, Wilson wasn't a soccer ball … he was a volleyball. Just sayin' …"

Steve tucked his lips together, trying not to smile. A losing battle for him. The weary, confused and highly perturbed look on Danny's face was priceless and Steve failed a moment later as a snuffling, nasal chortle broke free through his nose despite the nasal cannula he was sporting.

"Danno. Go home. Rest and sleep yourself out. I'm not going anywhere," Steve said as his partner swayed in place again. "That's an order, Danno. You look terrible." In all seriousness, Danny looked like hell and he needed more rest. The only plus Steve could see was that Danny was breathing normally. The whine was gone; as was the off-kilter, far too shallow inhales and exhales. Aside from that, his partner didn't physically look better than before on the helicopter. Those facts were sobering and Steve forced himself to behave through the glow of drugs to really stare hard as the nurse added her equally astute opinion.

"He's right, Detective Williams" the nurse said. "You're very pale. You look exhausted and have been on your feet nonstop. I'd suggest you go home for a few hours ... or, I might just need to order you up a bed here."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay ... fine. I'm going," Danny said. "You and your stupid orders." He meant that last remark for Steve while he shook his head and frowned.

The gentle teasing had gone on long enough and Steve lost his smile. Danny's eyes were glassy and looking a bit haunted. There was a bruise on Danny's forehead which he hadn't noticed before, more scrapes on his cheek and a livid bruise on his chin. His face looked pinched and his complexion, more on the side of ashen than pale. As he really looked, Steve almost demanded that the nurse follow through on her first warning about admitting his partner.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve found himself asking. "Maybe you should get checked out again." It was his turn to frown when Danny merely sighed in exasperation.

"No, I'm fine," he replied.

"Then get a ride from Pua or somebody at HPD," Steve added. "Go home. Hey ..." He raised his hand, his ask for Danny to take it, obvious. When Danny automatically obliged, Steve tightened his grip, trying to express how much better he was ... and ... how much he wanted Danny to take a deep breath and take care of himself now, too.

"Thanks, Danno. For everything ... and I'm sorry about all of it," Steve whispered sincerely, just loud enough for his partner to hear. "I'm good. _Really_. You need a break ... Hell, after beating the crap out of Cowell, you deserve one, buddy."

There was a swallow and a nod; a soft agreeable murmur of sound. Danny smiled as he squeezed Steve's hand in kind. "Okay."

"Go on. Call Pua or Lou and get a ride out of here," Steve repeated just as quietly. "Eat something. For God's sake, take a nice hot shower and get some sleep. Get someone to help you for a change, Danno. That's an order."

"Another one, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve grinned. "Another order; I'm on a roll."

Danny's lips twitched upwards this time. His expression lightened and he released Steve's hand but still was momentarily loathe to leave. Without a word, he reached down to gently pat Steve's shoulder. With one more thoughtful look for Steve and a parting glance towards the nurse for good measure, he slowly left the room.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes:**_ MUCH license with all things medical. :-) Phoebe is so good to the muse - cookie accepted for hoops well-jumped by the muse to correct a "hole"! _

_due to my move, I am behind in replies to reviews. I'll try to catch up, but if don't, THANK YOU to everyone for reading and commenting!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Rather than calling anyone for a ride home, Danny roamed the hospital still wanting to put his fist through someone's face. He thought he'd hid that fairly well from Steve. Even from the nurse. Sure he looked tired. He was downright exhausted and he couldn't cover that up at all. But his emotions? He was good at hiding those; tucking them away. And of course that was the very worst thing he could do to himself.

Fluids and a few hours' worth of forced rest had done nothing for what he was really feeling inside.

His imposed period of rest had been disrupted by shadowy images and a constant feeling of being suffocated. He'd woken abruptly, breathless and practically terrorized in a plain white room. He hadn't known where he was at first. He'd lurched sideways only to eventually figure out he was lying on a gurney in a curtained-off alcove. If not for the side-rails, he'd have tumbled from the thing.

No one had to know that either. Tuck it away and bury it.

Danny stopped dead in his tracks as that truth flickered through his brain. If this were Steve, Danny would be mad as hell at his partner for compartmentalizing and downplaying his emotions. He snorted softly under his breath. A sound full of derision. He should practice what he preached for once. Especially because Steve _was_ really going to be okay. Plus he'd been ordered to leave and this time, Steve wasn't kidding at all. He'd meant what he'd said.

Danny closed his eyes taking stock of how he was doing. Every part of his body ached, including his head. He felt weak, off-balance both mentally and physically. His stomach ached, compounded by a worse feeling of queasiness. He was exhausted and still filled with anxiety. The anxiety was part and parcel of his personal make-up. That feeling was why he wanted to put his fist through someone's face - or a wall - something _hard_.

He sighed loudly and then re-opened his eyes. He tried to make himself relax. He forced himself to rationalize why he hadn't yet reached out to Lou Grover or Officer Pua Kai or anyone at HPD like he'd promised once he'd seen his partner or gotten a satisfactory update from a doctor. The answer was an easy one: he didn't want to be alone.

Every dim corridor seemed to hold some shadowed tentacle of the tunnel; even the stairwells were an unexpected problem after opting out of using the elevators. With their dark faux carpeting and dimly lit interiors, the elevators were absolutely verboten. The small dark boxes made his imagination run wild.

He was anxious and jumpy as hell.

"Detective?"

Danny jolted so badly from the surprise of hearing a voice, he nearly fell over his own two feet. He stumbled around on his nubby socks and still nearly slipped on the linoleum floor without actually knowing who it was, illogically terrified all over again until he recognized Steve's primary physician. And then he was scared all over again.

_How the hell could something have gone wrong in the last five minutes?_

"Doc! Is there a problem? Did something happen to Steve?" Danny asked.

"No, no! I'm sorry I startled you," the doctor said. "He's much better. His condition has improved greatly and I understand, you did just have a chance to visit with him. Nothing's changed. He's resting quietly." The man gestured towards Danny's attire, his smile a mix between amusement and a kind understanding about the reason for Danny's shabby appearance.

"It's only that I recognized you in the hallway and Steve said that you'd already gone home. I was surprised to see you. Are you all right?"

"Me? I'm good ... fine," Danny stammered over his tongue, back-pedaling and spewing a few little white lies. "Going home now; I just need to call somebody. For a lift." He scrubbed at his face biting back a sardonic laugh. Easy enough to do when he connected with the largest bruise on his forehead and winced in pain. His headache was spiking and he was seeing disconcerting sparkles of light in the air between himself and the surgeon. This surge of alarm had done him no good at all as his vision swam, making him feel even more queasy.

"You look ...," The doctor hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. "You look tired, Detective. It's time you did go home ... your partner's stabilized and comfortable. We're making plans to move him out of the ICU by tomorrow - probably late afternoon or early evening. He'll grace our fine establishment for a few days and then be released to recover quietly at home."

Danny sniffed back a hoarse laugh. "Recover quietly? Him?"

The doctor smiled and then shrugged. "Well one could hope that one's patient might follow doctor's orders." He let the import of what he'd say float in the air between them and Danny raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was guilty, too.

"Yeah, well ...," Danny said. "I guess you're right on that score."

"It's four o'clock in the morning, Detective," the doctor said. "You don't have a ride do you? You haven't called a soul yet." He continued to smile when Danny shook his head.

"Nope," he admitted.

It was the doctor's turn to shake his head, a sign of his growing exasperation. "I'm sure HPD is open twenty-four, seven and someone could easily swing by ... but you're more than welcome to camp out here." And he thumbed over his shoulder, in the general direction of the ICU. "Each room has a recliner ... typically for patients ... but, if you'd rather stay?"

Danny knit his brows, briefly wondering if the doctor had ulterior motives about his health, then wondering if it mattered. The offer was the best one he'd had that entire miserable day. He wondered why had hadn't thought of it himself.

"Seriously?" Danny asked even as he was walking in that direction, his body desperate to be horizontal sooner rather than later.

"It's not unheard of for the occasional family member - or friend - to stay, Detective Williams," the doctor said as he tried to covertly take Danny's elbow when he wobbled. "Besides, the chairs are dammed comfortable. I've caught a cat-nap once or twice myself in an empty room."

On a good day, Danny was capable of sleeping practically anywhere. This was far from being one of those as he fought looking for his shoulder at every turn. If he did leave to go home and be alone, without a doubt, he'd have wound up on his own sofa or even a chair ... TV on, battling sleep or really, fighting nightmares. The doctor didn't need to convince him for any number of very good and very valid reasons. Danny knew all of that, he just wasn't firing on all the right cylinders. Plus, he was still a complete and total mess ... he should go leave to shower or get a change of clothes at a bare minimum. But that posed another complicated question as he wobbled down the hallway, one hand on the wall for balance.

He probably wouldn't have the wherewithal to do any of those things at home either; he was walking in a daze now. Danny bit back a tired giggle as he envisioned himself taking a header in the shower. That's all he'd need to top off this stellar experience!

Staying on hospital grounds wasn't _home_ as he'd been ordered, yet good enough if he was dutifully listening to a medical professional's sage advice and getting off his feet. He'd be safer for one. Sleep was sleep no matter where it took place and for Danny, a side chair less than five steps from his best friend's bed-side was an excellent option. Showers could wait; as could clean clothes.

"Thanks Doc," Danny said softly as he re-entered Steve's room. He glanced towards his sleeping partner. Steve was out cold, his face peaceful. The white-noise hum of a few machines in the dimly lit room was oddly soothing to Danny; better than any TV would be.

He grinned when the doctor thrust a pillow into his arms from a small built-in closet. A light weight blanket followed next. With a simple look of thanks to the doctor, Danny settled himself in the big chair and pushed it back to recline. With just enough energy to toss the blanket over his legs, Danny had no time to worry about shadows or bad dreams. With barely another glance towards Steve's bed and a final contented sigh, Danny closed his eyes.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_I know this is **much** later than I usually get chapters up ... I'm still in the midst of moving and will be through __August. In the middle of this chaos, I was also laid off. Yay me - it's not only pouring, there's a monsoon of "luck" at play right now. (Roll Sarcasm)._

_On the flip side, I've discovered the fun world of up cycling furniture and have accidentally turned a spare bedroom into a paint "studio". Oh oh ... like not enough was going on, right?_

_Regardless, thank you all for being so patient!_

_The poem referenced is of course: '_O Captain! My Captain!' by Walt Whitman.

_My thanks to Phoebe who is always there at the drop of a hat to save the muse. Thank you!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve opened his eyes sometime mid-afternoon, completely disoriented. He stared at the ceiling while taking a series of deep breaths, scowling at the white ceiling and unfamiliar sounds. A faint odor of food wafted through the air, distracting him more and not necessarily in a good way. Steve made a face, assuming that he should have been starving. Yet, he wasn't sure if he was hungry or not. He decided that he wasn't at all when that disoriented sensation was joined by a sickish feeling. He needed to figure out where he was and why, but his brain refused to kick in for a good few minutes until other aseptic odors further wrinkled his nose.

Of course. Steve sighed, exasperated with himself.

_Hospital_.

The right answer came slower than he would have liked. And if he were in the _hospital_, why did he feel like total crap? Crisp medicinal smells mixed in with the opposing odors of food and his stomach lurched enough in warning to confirm one thing: no, he absolutely didn't feel like eating at all, though a sip of water would have been a nice way to chase the dryness from his throat. Maybe water would help his stomach settle too before things worsened. He was sure that a plastic cup and pitcher could be close at hand, he merely needed to look for it.

The ability to make a decision certainly wasn't his friend upon waking. Steve stretched his legs and immediately felt the warning ache through both his abdomen and lower back. The memory of an old debilitating pain came faster and Steve stopped moving, duly chastised. He waited for it to come, relieved when the ache abated quickly. Not pleasantly numb but certainly far better than the mind-boggling pain he'd been in before and he frowned again. Dim memories of shadows and an uncomfortable cold teased him; an emergency room. Prep for surgery?

His fingers skirted over a bandage he now noticed along his right hip. The bullet had nicked the bone and lodged inside. He remembered the doctor's calm demeanor and soothing expression. Things must have gone well ... considering what had led up requiring surgery in the first place. He willingly would take his current state over any of that. When the pain didn't come, he carefully tested the waters again and sighed in approval. His hip felt heavy and uncomfortable, nothing more. With a bit of a struggle, Steve found the bed's remote to elevate his upper body. He took another measured tally of how he was doing and decided he was good even if he wasn't one hundred percent firing on all cylinders. That brief bout of queasiness eased with his change of position and the debilitating pain was already a distant memory. He sighed again, more so in impatience as to his own predicament until he glanced over to the corner of the room, realizing that he wasn't alone.

Impatience turned to confusion.

He cocked his head, his expression now quizzical, staring hard at the sprawled out body in his hospital room's large recliner. Still a rumpled mess, old clothes askew and with a myriad of bruises now more vivid in the light of day, his partner - aka _Wilson the soccer ball _\- was sleeping the sleep of the dead. As Danny's chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, the soft snore barely audible on each exhale, Steve had to blink a few times to make sure he was awake. The medication which he was one had to be the reason behind his ongoing inability to get with the program.

As he watched Danny sleep, Steve's lips briefly twitched into a smile but that smile quickly fell away in favor of a rather more pertinent question. _ Why was Danny still here? _

A vague memory of having ordered Danny to go home came to mind. That had definitely happened. Steve remembered Danny leaving his room in fact. Rubbing idly at the impressive twenty-four hour scruff on his face, Steve stayed confused because based on Danny's ongoing disheveled appearance, there was no way at all that his friend had gone anywhere.

"Well you're looking better after sleeping yourself out." The soft female voice startled him from his private musings and Steve's head whipped to the right. He blinked rapidly to dispel a surge of stomach churning dizziness. The nurse smiled her apology for startling him so badly. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you. How are you feeling, Commander McGarrett? Any pain or discomfort?"

"Better. Thanks. Just a little achy," Steve said. "Why's he here?" He chin-nodded towards the recliner, amazed that Danny hadn't so much as twitched. For as long as Steve had known the man, Danny wasn't normally a deep sleeper. Typically plagued by insomnia Danny rarely caught a full night's sleep at all. For a minute, Steve's concern flared as he stared harder at his partner's bruised face and equally bruised hands. Maybe something else had happened as he'd slept; maybe Danny was sick or more injured than he'd let on ... and this had been some sort of subterfuge to keep him hospitalized? A stretch to be sure, but not entirely out of the question after the stress Danny'd been under.

"Is he sick? Hurt?" Steve found himself asking as he squirreled himself up higher in the bed, wincing but ignoring the painful twinge as he pulled on the sutures in his side.

"No, not at all. Doctor Sloan found your partner roaming the hallways after checking on you. Do you remember that?" The nurse explained with a sweet smile when Steve raised an eyebrow. He clearly didn't remember seeing his doctor at all. "He was dead on his feet and hadn't called for a ride; Doc Sloan thought this as good a place as any for him to catch a few winks."

"That's it?" Steve asked doubtfully. "A few winks?" He didn't believe it despite the nurse's pleasantries and while she puttered around him, he studied Danny's face with a certain private knowledge. Danny never would have agreed so easily to anything of the sort. If Doctor Sloan had asked his partner to stay, then Danny had agreed for one reason and one reason only. He'd only used the suggestion to suit his own needs. Steve knew why and he frowned, worriedly.

Steve glanced from Danny to the nurse as she checked his intravenous lines. Not understanding the real concern behind his expression, she smiled reassuringly. "That's it."

The nurse was dead wrong. The reason was clear enough to Steve: _Danny's demons had hit him hard and Danny hadn't wanted to be alone. _In the very least, the doctor's suggestion had given his partner an easy-out and an excuse to stay around people and Steve felt relieved enough - even thankful - for that.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured softly though as he scrubbed harder at his face until his vision sparkled. He felt responsible for what had happened to raise those inner demons. He never should have followed that lunatic into the bunker to put them in such a tenuous, life-threatening situation. But the nurse was still speaking and Steve re-focused on her face as she changed out his intravenous antibiotics. He'd completely zoned out and nearly forgotten she was still in the room.

"I missed what you said?" He apologized.

"I was just explaining more about why he's still here," the nurse repeated. "It was barely dawn and he was exhausted. Hardly on his feet or able to keep his eyes open. So yes, Doctor Sloan made the suggestion and Detective Williams agreed." She paused and then looked at him questioningly.

"Are you cold? Your blood pressure is on the low side. Your temp is up half a degree from last time."

"No, I'm fine," Steve answered distractedly. He dropped the line of conversation in favor of watching Danny's hands twitch. A precursor to a long, cat-like stretch. The light blanket slipped off Danny's lap, pooling on the floor. The thin, cheap pillow followed next and Steve managed to grin in amusement. A deeper inhale ending on a long sigh preceded the opening of Danny's eyes. He blinked once and their eyes locked immediately.

"Steve," Danny's voice was rusty from disuse and still wracked by exhaustion. He glanced towards the nurse, immediately on edge. "What's wrong? You good?" Unlike Steve's own waking, Danny was instantly aware and even on guard despite eyes glassy from sleep. Ever wary, he studied the nurse's calm expression as he ran his fingers through his lank hair.

"Wilson ... I thought I gave you a direct order," Steve said in an attempt to ease his partner's concerns. "That shirt is an embarrassment." His lips twitched upwards more when Danny managed to grin at the gentle teasing. Danny was smiling but he still looked like crap. He was a veritable mess. _Still_. That only made Steve feel ten times worse about why his partner might have stayed on a lousy recliner in a sterile hospital ward.

"Talk to your doctor," Danny said as he crawled himself to his feet. "Me staying here was all his idea." He wobbled tiredly, shoulders hunched, obviously muscle sore as he walked forward to give Steve the once-over. "You look better. _Maybe_. How do you feel?"

"Good. I'm good, Danny," Steve insisted when his partner stared at the nurse to validate his words.

"Is he?" Danny saw fit to challenge by ignoring him.

"His blood pressure is a tad low," the nurse shared. "His temp is also up a bit ..."

"Up a bit?" Danny pounced. "That can't be good. How much up is _up_?"

"Only half a degree ..." the nurse continued on helpfully. "I'll run it by Doctor Sloan."

"But he's on antibiotics," Danny seemed to argue the readings and Steve sighed loudly at the two of them as they conversed over his body. "Aren't they working?"

"They're working - I'm fine!" Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Steve tried to change the subject from himself. "Is Sloan the real reason you stayed?"

He dared go directly there, frowning when Danny scowled back at him only to wave him off far too quickly. Steve remembered quite a bit of what had happened, the most disturbing in a long queue of disturbing events being when Danny had kept crawling blindly across the rocks, mumbling inanely. On its heels, the way he'd shut down on the rescue chopper. His usual stubbornness ruined by a truly horrific experience that had similarly rattled Steve.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Danny finally replied. He stared hard at Steve and then walked over to the small elevated table. Without a word, he poured water from a sweat-stained plastic pitcher into a small plastic cup. He busied himself with opening a paper-wrapped straw and then silently handed the cup of water to Steve.

"Thanks," Steve said, huffing a quizzical sound under his breath before taking a much needed, but cautiously small sip. He rolled the water around in his mouth before swallowing, his next sound one of utter relief when his stomach behaved. As Steve took another tiny sip, Danny walked to the foot of his bed. But instead of looking at him, Danny turned to face the window. He tried to fix his ruined shirt and then laughed ruefully, his voice still rough-sounding. When he turned back round, his eyes were more clear and his jaw, firm. Steve almost felt jealous.

"It was four o'clock in the morning, Steve," he further explained. "Sloan got me before I could see who was available in HPD and then ... well, Sloan just made sense and I was dammed tired."

"You still are, Danno. But I know you and you also didn't want to be alone," Steve added bluntly after the nurse left the room. "Which makes even more sense to me and which I get - I understand - and I'm glad you stayed. Especially if it helped you get some rest. You need more though."

Danny pulled the corner of his lip between his teeth, staring at Steve in thoughtful silence. He shrugged, surprising Steve when he didn't argue the accusations but agreed with him. "Maybe," he replied quietly. "Maybe it did help because I actually did sleep. Does it really matter?"

Steve shook his head from side to side. It didn't matter at all. Not one bit. Except that it did matter to the two of them. The emotional turbulence that would pursue his partner for days to come would matter. But they would work through it in their usual ways. Now though, it was mid afternoon and Danny could leave with a lighter step. He could take that deserved rest and get cleaned up without fear of being pursued by phantoms.

He knew it and Danny knew it.

"Go on home, Wilson," Steve said calmly, thinking Danny would smile again at the use of the new nickname. "It's afternoon ... call Lou or Junior. Get out of here. I'm not going anywhere." He made a face though when Danny didn't move. Like a bug under a microscope, Danny was back to weighing and measuring him. There wasn't a smile in sight.

"What now?" He asked in exasperation. "I'm good, Danno. You heard the nurse." For good measure, Steve took another sip of water.

"Oh sure. I'm positive that you're dammed peachy. You don't look good to me though," Danny said petulantly, taking the cup when Steve couldn't quite reach the side table. "And you heard the nurse, too. Your temp is up when it shouldn't be up at all. You're lying; you feel like shit don't you."

"Daniel," Steve sighed out his partner's name in defeat, sensing the beginnings of some Danny-like blustering and not thinking he deserved it at all. As for the question posed as a statement - no, he didn't feel well. But that was to be expected. He was tired and a bit grumpy over a queasy stomach which could easily be blamed on just having had surgery. So, he was far from perfect. However, one half of a degree on a thermometer was hardly worth the hassle of a discussion. Steve was worried though when Danny's usual posturing was very short-lived. He saw why a moment later.

"Well? How do you really feel?" Danny folded his arms over his chest and then seemed to think better of that particular move. He paused and quieted. Steve narrowed his eyes. The grimace Danny made only added to the obvious pain he was feeling.

"I'm sitting in a hospital bed and I'm beginning to think that you should be too," Steve stated firmly. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? What's wrong ... what hurts?"

Danny snorted, his expression suddenly incredulous. "Me?! What hurts?" He laughed and then coughed lightly into his hand, trying to quiet a worrisome sharp giggle. "Everything hurts, Steven. Everything. There's not a single thing on my body that doesn't hurt."

"Then go home," Steve said. "Call Lou ... let me sit in my chair. I'm already sick of laying here in this dammed bed."

"Chair!" Danny objected loudly. "You want to get _up_!? What the hell's wrong with you - you just had surgery!"

"Did I hear my name?" Lou Grover's voice intoned from the doorway, interrupting what would have become Danny's argument about how long he thought Steve needed to stay in a hospital bed for the foreseeable future. Lou's face peeked out from behind a staggeringly large bouquet of flowers. Steve's instant smile for the big man's perfectly timed arrival couldn't have been larger. He laughed at Danny's almost disgusted expression not only about the interruption, but also for the extravagantly large bouquet.

"How're you boys doing? Danny you look like something the cat drug in, only ten times worse. Steve?" Lou cocked his head, studying Steve's face. "You don't look too much better than when I saw you last ... how are you feeling, man? I hate to say it, but you look like death warmed over."

"Gee, Lou. Thanks. That was helpful," Steve groused unhappily as Danny glared at him. "What's with the flowers?"

Lou preened like a peacock as he held the flowers up between them. "My beautiful wife insisted that I bring you these. Why? Only because she's the best woman on the planet."

"Flowers?" Danny asked. He tapped his chest. "I went through hell and back again ... _twice_! For _him_! And he gets the flowers? What do I get? _Huh_?"

"You need to ask? You my friend, get me!" Holding his arms out wide, flowers and all, Lou grinned happily, already reading the look on Steve's face which pleaded with Lou for an intervention. "You get me, Jersey!" Lou boomed happily on. "I am your ride home and assurance of not only a hot shower but also of a decent meal before you get shoe-horned into a nice, cozy bed."

Danny chewed on his lip harder, looking from Lou to Steve and then back again. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet.

"You're ripe, man," Lou chortled when Danny looked down at himself next. "I'll take ya home for some well-deserved R&R. Where're your shoes?"

The look Danny aimed towards Lou had Steve grinning. "At least one is in the Pacific," Danny said. He pointed at Steve as he continued to speak to Lou. "I have no idea where the other one is and it doesn't matter because it's _his_ fault."

"It always is," Steve smirked helplessly while idly rubbing his stomach. He smiled through an unexpected shiver which had him fidgeting under the blankets. He gestured towards the door, ignoring another uncomfortable ripple. "Wilson. Out. Now."

"Wilson?" Lou asked in confusion, looking from one to the other. "Who's Wilson?"

"Soccer ball," Danny muttered in disgust as he pointed a finger in Steve's direction, ignoring Lou's perplexed expression. "Death warmed over, Steven. No standing or walking or sitting 'cept in that bed, y'here me?"

"Aye, aye, _O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,_" Steve said as he saluted his partner spontaneously and attempted to lighten his mood. He failed though, largely due to a nasty shiver which took him by surprise. One that was significant enough for both Danny and Lou to actually see.

"Is that trip over, Steven?" Danny objected, eyebrow raised and refusing to take Steve's bait. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Steve asked innocently, poking the bear despite himself. "Oh come on! I'm fine, Danny!"

"You're cold," Danny stated. "Cold ... with low blood pressure ... temps up ... how's our liver doing there, _huh_? I'm serious, Steve. We both just crawled ourselves through eons of micro-organisms and your immune system is already compromised. You didn't need to get shot or have surgery on top of everything else."

Steve heaved in a lungful of air, expelling it in one long rush of sound. Danny was partly right - maybe even more than partly; but Steve was in the best possible place. The doctors were aware of his medical history. So the two of them, worrying? That was uncalled for. Besides, Danny was running on fumes, hurting from a myriad of aches and pains, and everything would seem ten times worse than it was on principle alone.

Switching gears, Steve sobered and nodded. He raised his hand, a gesture saying that he agreed and would give in. Do as he was told. Would follow doctors' orders with nary an argument.

"The nurse is on it. You heard her, Danno," Steve soothed as he squirreled himself comfortably into the mattress. "Go home. Rest. Please. I'm tired and plan to do the same." He lowered the head of the bed just a bit. All signs that he was bound and determined to be a model patient even if his partner wasn't entirely convinced.

"All right," Danny reluctantly said as Steve closed his eyes. "But I'll be back later."

"All right. Good," Steve whispered, surprised by how tired he was actually feeling after what now seemed like a much drawn-out conversation. "I'll see you later."

"All right then. Let's get you home, Danny. If it makes you feel better, I'll come back and babysit this big lug of ours," Lou added for good measure and Steve smiled fondly, eyes still closed as Lou's voice faded along with two parting words left floating on the air from his partner.

_"Flowers? Really?"_

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_I know ... off track ...long wait. Sorry. I've not had the best of weeks but I'm working on it. ;-) Some good things seem to be on the horizon. I appreciate everyone's patience with the posting of this story. _

_Thanks to Phoebe for the last minute read and beta. As always - I really appreciate it. And thanks to Komodo Queen for the confirmation of the illness to come. _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steps slowing and slowing, Danny began to fall back as soon as he and Lou left the ICU. He consoled himself continually with one key thing: _Steve was fine._

The sun was shining brightly and he could go home with an easier mindset. But he was still struggling a bit with his own quirky demons and he was fast losing the energy to forcibly banish them away in their entirety. Sure he'd slept in the hospital, but not the deep healing sleep he desperately needed. So now, he trailed farther and farther behind Lou's longer and easier gait. All his aches and pains combined into one grand ball of fire and he all but hobbled out of the hospital, grimacing at the brightness of the sun, stumbling in his nubby socks across the hot parking lot, towards Lou's big SUV.

"You all right?" Lou asked as Danny pushed a white box out of his way so that he could crawl himself into the passenger seat. And crawl he did, hissing out his discomfort as his bruised back connected with the plush passenger seat.

"Danny?"

He nodded as he closed his eyes, daring the black monsters to return, until he felt something land in his lap. He squinted down to see what it was as Lou got himself settled behind the wheel. "What's this?" He asked when Lou motioned over for him to open the box's lid.

"A grenade. What do you think?" Lou replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes upwards acting as if begging for patience. Then he poked at the box again. "So, open it," he said. "Do you really think that Renee would neglect one of you? She baked _you_ some cookies. Not me. Not the kids. _You_. I had very specific orders to leave that there box in the car since Steve was likely needing to watch what he could and could not eat. So those cookies? They're for yours-truly."

"Uh? Yeah? Seriously" Danny raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a little bit better than he had been. Even a bit warm inside as he cracked open the lid to the box. He forgot about his aches, and even the shadows and lurking monsters as the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafted up into his face. This was a reality he could get into quite easily and he hummed out his pleasure.

"I got cookies?" He repeated, smiling despite the ache in his jaw and cheek. The dull headache he'd been quietly enduring didn't seem so bad anymore either as he inhaled the homey chocolatey smells deeply into his lungs.

"_ReneeReneeRenee ..._," Danny moaned her name out appreciatively as he held a cookie up in the air. "I think I love your wife Lou!"

"Don't we all," Lou agreed with an equally pleased chuckle. "Just ... don't tell your other half."

"That crazy Neanderthal? Never!" Danny promised with a laugh. "Now this. _This_ is a _real_ gift," he oozed the compliment as he took a bite and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Soft and gooey, the perfect sugary flavors opened up his taste buds and reminded his stomach just how hungry he was. Hungry. Tired and ... filthy. A different odor dared to permeate underneath that of the chocolate and Danny's nose wrinkled. He glanced towards Lou.

"Geez, I stink," Danny muttered under his breath as he dove in for a second cookie.

"No comment," Lou concurred, laughing heartily as he pulled away from the curb. "None. At. All." Danny half grimaced at Lou's response and then half grinned as he chewed in contentment, wishing he had a glass of milk like a five year old. He needed these five minutes of absolute peace though.

"Hmm," Danny murmured as he forced himself to stop at three by closing the box and tucking it safely onto his lap. He cracked the window and tried to melt into the passenger side of the truck. His back stopped him from really relaxing though and he stiffened in discomfort. That respite with Renee's gift was short-lived in other ways too. In fact, if Renee's gracious baking had reminded him that he hadn't eaten in well over a day's worth of time, then a ride in Lou's SUV reminded Danny just how badly he hurt.

His shoulders, back and neck were irritated and scratchy under his soiled shirt. His muscles were strained and tired. His stomach wasn't too pleased either as the sweetness of the cookies began to compete with the sickening sway of the truck. Danny was starting to feel a bit green around the gills by the time Lou got them off the freeway and to his neighborhood. With one hand wrapped around the passenger door's handle, Danny swallowed down the sickly feeling. As they approached his house, he was more than ready to put an official close to one of the worst days of his life.

"Thank God," he said as they finally got to his place and he eased himself to the ground. After literally crawling himself through his front door, Danny slowly got himself at least out of his ruined shirt. He balled it up and stuffed it directly into the trash, happy of only two things. One, that even if Lou had followed him physically into his house, that the man was keeping the conversation to a bare minimum. And two, that he'd be able to take a nice hot shower.

"Holy ...," Lou drawled out as he trailed behind Danny, ending the word with an appreciative low whistle of sound.

"Hmmm?" Danny forced the sound out as he rummaged through his top dresser drawer looking for a clean tee. He didn't even bother to turn around. A hot shower was on on the docket. He stunk to high heaven from a rather horrendous mix of sweat, dirt, mud and rank sea-water. Every stitch of his remaining clothes would be following the shirt directly and without preamble into the trash. Now that he was home, Danny could barely stand himself. Lou in fact had done his due diligence and could leave, too. He could go back to the hospital and ensure their almighty Neanderthal had remained bedridden as promised, or go check on the status of their perp. Either would be fine with Danny since it would then allow him to bask in the sacred quiet of his own home.

"Your back ...," Lou started to say.

"Yeah, it's a little bruised up. G'home, Lou," Danny said as he dragged his feet down the hallway. "Or to the office. I'm so tired I don't know which way is up any more." He tried to laugh and wave Lou off in favor of heading towards the shower. "Thanks ... m'good."

"Uh. No," Lou drawled flatly. "Good? A little bruised up? Danny. Did anyone look at your _back_? I mean ... hey, come on! Did the doctors actually check you out in the E.R.?" He pressed on with a tone that seemed genuinely alarmed. It was enough for Danny to at least spare him some attention. He stopped walking and turned towards the bigger man, acknowledging the concerned expression.

"I know. It must look bad. I'm sore ... but they said it was superficial," Danny tried to explain. "That moron rammed me and we had a bit of tussle. The guy's a dammed lunatic, but I'm fine." He pushed by Lou, after grabbing a clean towel from the linen closet on his way.

"Couple of scrapes. A few bruises ... it's all good. Nothing that a few Advil won't fix ... and your wife's fantastic cookies."

"Renee's cooking does a body good but I don't think even that will be fixing what I'm looking at Danny," Lou said. "Superficial?" He said the word loudly, his voice rising. "Who told you that? It's a mess, man. Why didn't you say something? That's gotta hurt. Did they at least give you anything?"

"They cleaned me up and prescribed Advil," Danny said with an easy laugh. "Lou, _everything_ hurts right now and it all hurts equally bad!"

"Advil. What brainless twit took care of you?" Lou deadpanned, seeing fit to stare at him.

Tiring of the conversation and anxious to get cleaned up, Danny stared back just as hard. His patience was just about shot. He'd had enough and thought the conversation over when Lou finally looked away with what sounded like an aggrieved sigh. But then he was turning back to lob yet another question his way; one which Danny wasn't quite ready for.

"How are you in here?" Lou asked unexpectedly. "How are you really, Danny?" He tapped the side of his head with his index finger and Danny felt a shard of ice trickle down his spine. "I seen you after that building collapse. I know you aren't keen on any tight spots. And hell, what you just went through would be enough for any man ..."

Danny's mouth gaped wide before he found the energy to shrug. "Good. Fine."

"You're a good man," Lou said. "But a God-awful liar. I don't know anybody that would be just fine after that."

"Lou," Danny sighed loudly. This time he pushed past him, managing to reach the safety of the bathroom. "Really. I just need a shower, something to eat. Two Advil and my bed. That's it. So you can go. Thanks for the lift."

"I'll just wait here," Lou said. He pointed to the kitchen. "I'll fix you up something to eat. Then, we'll talk. Besides," and Lou frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think that shower is going to feel as good as you think ... you got any first aid supplies?"

"Yeah," Danny made a face, too as he tossed a few supplies from a cabinet Lou's way. He was sure that his back wasn't all that bad; he'd know, right? But unwilling to argue and simply craving to get clean, Danny heaved a patient sigh as he retreated to the bathroom. He spun the faucets to the shower to something close to a mind-boggling hot and then dove in, his blissful stupidity far too short-lived. Stumbling out of the shower stall as fast he'd gone in, shoulders hunched from pain and hissing over his teeth as soon as the water hit his wounded back, Danny was seeing stars.

"You okay in there?" Lou's voiced echoed in from the hallway and Danny growled back an affirmative while trying to see just how badly damaged his back was in the small mirror.

"Son of a bitch," he groused under his back when he caught sight of the bruises, scrapes and one fairly deep scabby-looking gouge across his shoulder-blade. The water had awakened his nerve endings. But he needed to get completely clean even if the hospital had spot-dressed his supposedly minor injuries. And even if the first few sheets of water had Danny peeling himself off the ceiling. Blanching as he thought about what soap would do to his pain level, Danny adjusted the water down a few notches and tentatively stepped back in, facing the water first. It took time, but eventually, he found a happy medium and a manageable way to stand to get the reams of dirt and salty-sweat off his body. Then wincing and biting back curse after curse, he toweled off, dabbing what he could reach and then opting to go shirtless as an itchy, painful tightness left him hunched over and using the wall for support.

_God he was tired. _Just taking a simple step was a daunting proposition.

"Danny?" Lou's voice was just on the opposite side of the bathroom door.

_Just ... fantastic. _Lou had stayed. But Danny had to admit, he needed help.

This time, Danny didn't argue or complain. He opened the door, feeling completely drained of life.

"I'd love to say that you look better," Lou said as he studied Danny's hunched over position. "But I honestly ... can't."

Instead of answering, Danny merely nodded, wondering if he looked as sick as he now felt.

"Sit," the older man demanded as he gently guided Danny to a chair in the kitchen where a sandwich, a glass of water and a bottle of pain killers sat waiting for him. "Eat and take those ... your back needs doctoring and don't you argue with me ..."

"Not arguing," Danny interrupted softly as he eased himself down and found that he was at least hungry despite it all. Despite how exhaustion was creeping in now with a vengeance. "Hurts like a son of a gun," he admitted while downing two pills with most of the water. He screwed his eyes closed even as he took a bite of the best tasting tunafish salad he'd ever eaten in his life, in anticipation of even more sharp pains.

"Just ... do it fast."

"I'm sure it does," Lou said as he uncapped a medicated cream and sized-up the worst of the scrapes and cuts on Danny's back. "And I'll go as fast as I can, then I'll leave you be," he added as he started to dab at the worst of the scrapes; the one across Danny's shoulder blades.

"But you need this, too. You know the reports and how storm waters can churn up all kinds of crap. This one cut; it looks bad, man. I'm surprised they didn't give you an antibiotic."

Danny groaned under his breath at the truth of Lou's statement. All he needed next was a bacterial infection; some kind of flesh-eating disease. Maybe he should go back to the doctor. Insist upon an antibiotic as Lou was mumbling and complaining about over his head, the man's fingers astonishingly dextrous as he smeared the cream over the worst of the cuts and scrapes. It hurt and yet felt good at the same time as the tight skin absorbed the soothing medication.

He should take five minutes and make that call to his doctor. But then Danny was being gently piloted to his bedroom and aimed towards his bed. As he crawled under a sheet to lie flat on his stomach, that was the very last thought he had inside his head.

**H5O* H5O**

Steve toyed with the remote to the tv, uncommitted to any particular show or sports event being televised. The news was the same old, same old. The weather was equally dull with a monotonous report of paradise acting as it should for the next seven days. He wasn't keen on soccer and couldn't find the energy to get interested in a baseball game. Steve didn't feel well, but loathed sitting still and despised channel-hopping. Being bedridden was a personal affront to a normally active, even hyper-active, person.

"Hey," Steve waved down a nurse who'd chanced a glance his way from the corridor. He gestured to the recliner which Danny had recently vacated. The discarded blanket and pillow looked far more enticing in the corner of his room than sitting in a bed like an invalid. He was happy that Danny had finally left the hospital, yet now he was feeling jealous of his partner's freedom.

"Yes?" The nurse asked as she entered the room.

"Am I stuck here or can I move over there?" He asked with a winning smile. "I, uh, need a little help, too." He thumbed the back of his bed higher, carefully pushing off his heels to gain some more height. His back and hip pinged a painful warning but it was manageable enough. He was smart enough too, to know that he'd need some kind of help even if the trip was a relatively short one from point A to point B.

"I'm sure that would be fine," she said. "I'll double check and be right back. Your blood pressure is still on the low side ... and your temperature." She hemmed and hawed, uncommitted based on his last readings.

"You're running a bit higher than Doctor Sloan would like to see right now. How are you feeling?"

"I know but I think I'd feel better over there," he added while keeping that winning smile plastered to his face even as a chill prickled the skin on his arms. "A change of scenery and all that ... I would be more comfortable."

Truth be told, he felt miserable; sickish even. But as the nurse waffled, Steve rose to the challenge and pressed on, determined to win his cause. Danny's chair suddenly never looked better.

"What's the difference if I sit here or there? I mean ... I'm only hooked up to antibiotics, right?"

"Right. Nevertheless, I'll be right back, Commander," she said. "I want to confirm it's okay with Doctor Sloan. Besides your readings, you did just have surgery and we want you to recover the _right_ way." Steve bit his lip at her use of the word '_we_' and then how she stressed the word '_right_', almost as if he could recover in a _wrong_ way. Something which Steve was sure Danny might find a way to agree with if Danny knew that Steve was trying to manipulate his way out of his hospital bed. Remaining in the same hospital room would literally mean nothing to his henn-ish partner.

"Thanks," he replied sweetly enough. "Just for a little while. _Please_." She smiled back at his gentle wheedling and then left him, but not for long. And when she came back, she had an orderly in tow. Between the three of them with Steve hobbling and hiding the thick throb in his lower back, he was relocated to the recliner, antibiotics and all. He closed his eyes listening to the hum of the television and disappointed that the subtle change in perspective hadn't done a thing to resolve his overall feeling of sickness.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_thank you for all the great reviews - especially the guests (and MsDib for this and many others) who I can't reply directly to. Seems I got me a new job that will begin next week! Yay me - it will put a kink in writing time but it's all good. Needs some finalizing though, so keep those fingers crossed for me._

_Thanks everyone. :-) _

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny was cool with knowing something was a dream. Good or bad, a dream could be embraced or shoved off depending upon its nature. But knowing you were dreaming something not so good? In fact, something downright morbidly disturbing and being completely incapable of waking up? Well, that was an entirely different matter.

This he definitely was not cool with as the sound of his labored breathing filled the quiet of his bedroom.

_'Steve ...'_ Hollow and thin as a reed, his voice echoed back to him inside his own head as he struggled to both find his partner and to wake up. _'Steve!'_

The shadows were close and then falling around him with an oppressive cloak. Claustrophia set in and his taking his next breath was a fight for survival. He couldn't do this again. He just couldn't ...

_'Steve ...'_

_"You're okay. You got this, buddy." Steve's voice was a faint whisper, barely heard above the erratic pounding of Danny's heart. "Come on ... follow me. You've got this. Trust me. You've got this … we've got this."_

Danny trusted Steve with all his heart. He did. He truly did or he wouldn't have gone where he'd gone nary a hesitation. He always followed Steve, maybe kicking and screaming the entire time, but he'd always follow. It was understood. An understanding forged in trust as part of their innate bond. But Danny's faith in getting out alive was flagging along with his strength. Stuck in a nightmare from which he couldn't wake himself, Danny sobbed out loud. He finally broke. He couldn't see or breathe - he couldn't move a muscle. And yet, he could do all of those things, too. It made no sense and because of that, Danny knew he was dreaming that he was back inside the old underground labyrinth of tunnels. He knew he was shouting out to his partner. Pleading with him and begging Steve to answer when silence met each of his pleas.

Knowing that Steve would never answer him again because he was ...

_... dead ... dead ... dead._

Nightmare or night terror, Danny needed to wake up. He _had_ to wake up ... there was no way that Steve had died or left him down here alone. Another sob tore at his throat and Danny choked on more dirt. His head buzzed as the blood pounded in his ears, making him nearly deaf. He thought he saw the heavy treads of a booted heel and then ... just as he reached for it ... it blinked out. Nothing was there. Danny's heart seized in fear and the buzz increased in its intensity.

_'No! Steve! No!'_ He shouted over and over in his mind's eye, drowning in darkness while inhaling nothing but the cloying thickness of aged dirt. The musty taste of soil was in his nose and his mouth. Mired in his eyes and matted within his hair. Danny crawled on his stomach, hand over hand, getting nowhere at all but still trying to get to his partner with a desperation that finally had him shouting out loud.

"Steve! Steve!" Danny sat straight up in bed, eyes wide and gulping in air, shouting out his partner's name. "Steven! Jesus ... _McGarrett_!"

The breath whined in his chest as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was ... and why. When he started to settle and realized the hurt he was still feeling through the bruised skin across his shoulders and back, the hysterical barked-out laugh was a half-sob. That dammed underground network of tunnels were the remnants of a reality he'd survived. It was over and he was _home_. He was in his own dammed _bedroom_ and yet his brain continued to doubt the reality of that fact because something still felt wrong to him.

"Steve?" Danny couldn't stop the whisper of his partner's even as that remembered ache settled in his injured back. He'd moved too fast but maybe that was all right as he stared dumbly at the white of his walls, the blinds swaying in the cool of the air conditioning. The pain forced his brain to kick in, though an odd buzzing sound finally made it through to further pique his awareness.

A hum much like metal on wood and Danny automatically reached out to pick up his cell phone which was vibrating incessantly across the top of the small end table nearest the bed.

"Steve." Danny said Steve's name even as he glanced at the screen, pausing as he let the actual name and number sink in. His hope plummeted. Not Steve, but Lou Grover. That feeling of something being off intensified.

"Lou?" Danny's voice cracked on the older man's name before he asked a terrible question. "What ...what's wrong?"

_"Sorry, Danny,"_ Lou said, apparently not hearing the discomfit in Danny's tone. _"I know it's only been a few hours, but you need to get back to the hospital. Steve? He's not doing so good."_

"W-what? What do you mean?" Danny's voice broke again as his head spun dizzily. An odd feeling fell into the pit of his stomach. "He was fine ... Steve was fine when we left."

_"Yeah, I know. He was,"_ Lou admitted, clearly distracted_. "But he started to feel sick a little while ago. His temp is up all of a sudden. Around 102 ... Doc Sloan is thinking there's some kind of infection despite the antibiotics he's been on ..."_

"Infection?" Danny parroted the word back, feeling more sick with each passing second.

_"His leg ... Doc Sloan thinks there could be something they missed,"_ Lou was saying even as Danny was kicking off the sheets, ignoring his own discomfort as he threw clothes on. _"Maybe a piece of wood or some kind of ...Geez, I don't know. They cleaned it all up when they went in but they're only human you know."_

"Yeah, human," Danny repeated as he forced his feet into a pair of sneakers. "Okay. Tell him I'm coming ... I'm on my way." He was barely listening now. Lou was talking fast but Danny's brain was tumbling through 'what if' scenarios much faster. He did hear what Lou was saying about the Camaro being in his driveway though. Brought over by someone in HPD, his keys were in the mailbox by the breezeway. It was a thoughtful, helpful gesture and yet Danny shook his head in frustration and worry. Why couldn't they catch a break? Why the hell did Steve have to take a turn like this?

_"You okay?"_ Lou was was asking him next and Danny scowled.

"Sure. Fine. I'm coming," Danny mumbled into his phone as he shoved it between his shoulder and cheek. He was fucking peachy as his temper flared then flamed out, once more replaced by worry and fear. Lou had switched back to Steve's incomprehensibly lower blood pressure. A bout of nausea. Pain management. The supposition from Doctor Sloan that there could be a pocket of infection which had begun to seep into his blood stream.

It was bad. That was all Danny was getting from Lou's diatribe. Dire thoughts ran through Danny's head that included Steve's immune system challenges from the liver transplant. So much time had passed since that day, that they'd both practically forgotten about it. Of course they hadn't forgotten it at all. That concern would always be hovering in the background. Twinned scars would never allow them that peace either. But Steve had been fine for months now. He sure as hell didn't need a setback. He absolutely didn't need to have an infection compromise his delicate balance.

"I'll be right over. I'm on my way; I'm getting in the car." The words spilled from his mouth as he left his bedroom. Danny knuckled his forehead when the call ended, unhappy about the promise of a nasty headache which was creeping in with a vengeance. He didn't have time for himself though. He was already on a jog out his front door, cringing at the brightness of the early evening sun.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_P__hoebe is the BEST for a last minute, late night sanity check / read through. Thank you! And thanks for the well wishes - with any luck, I will start the new job this Wednesday. We're just working through some last minute details. I so appreciate the happy thoughts!_

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"What the hell's wrong with you? Don't you get enough attention?" Danny's voice was suddenly over Steve's head and he forced his eyes back open as the warmth of a hand found his shoulder.

"Hey buddy," Steve quietly welcomed him back.

"Don't you dare _hey buddy_ me," Danny sternly reprimanded him. Steve's lips twitched upwards. Behind Danny, he registered Lou Grovers' outward flinch at the strong tone. But Steve knew better and he smiled even more when Danny's hand stayed firm on his shoulder. He also registered the glower on his partner's face when the oxygen mask he was sporting moved up along his cheeks.

"What else should I say, Danno?" Steve asked. He knew what he must look like. Tired, weak. Exactly the way he was feeling. His voice was barely above a whisper and the outrage in Danny's eyes was almost endearing.

"And don't do that either! Don't you call me Danno. And no smiling - just what the hell are you smiling about?"

"Dunno," Steve replied, unable to stop grinning. He'd needed this badly even if his partner was about to implode from more stress. Steve simply needed the distraction because, to be frank, he was worried about himself, too. He reached up and tapped Danny's hand. "Happy to see you I guess."

The blatantly honest reply made Danny's face change, his expression looking every bit as if he'd just swallowed a lemon and for the first time in a long while, he had nothing to say. Steve sighed as he studied Danny's face. His jaw was tight; his eyes dark with worry and yet also tired looking though Lou Grover had promised that he'd left Danny sleeping soundly in his house. He sighed again as Danny squinted back at him which was not a good sign.

"Danny, I'm fi...," Steve began out of habit, as he tried to calm the rant to come but he only managed to make it all the worse.

"Ah!" One finger shot up and Steve pursed his lips under the oxygen mask as he gave Danny the floor to vent. "NO! No you most certainly are not fine. _Not_ okay. You're on oxygen. You're running a fever ... you're on pain meds. More pain meds! Ergo you are not perfect or peachy or right as rain! Not. At. All!"

"Ergo?" Steve asked and then blinked, feeling far too sick to come up with an adequate reply. His breathing was still a bit fast even with oxygen. According to Doctor Sloan, he had a pocket of infection near where the bullet had been. Moving around and definitely getting up even with help to sit in the room's recliner had been enough to rupture the dammed thing. It might have happened anyway and Steve would have gotten sick ... anyway. But this time, Danny was right and Steve just didn't have the energy for talking or denying the obvious. Steve was sick and had earned himself a longer stay in the ICU. An infection was nothing to play with as they all well knew.

Steve's lack of reply validated his flagging strength. It confirmed that he realized how ill he was; and how much he'd sent not only Danny, but his entire team into a state of true concern. Steve wanted to apologize but he didn't need to. It was as if Danny realized all of that, too. As Steve watched, his partner simply deflated, shoulders slouching. There was a flicker of pain across Danny's face and then it was gone. If Steve could have figured out what to do or say at that moment, he might have asked if Danny was actually all right.

"You were fine when I left. What happened?" Danny eventually asked him. It was almost a rhetorical question and Steve could have stayed quiet as Danny leaned forward, using the bed rails to rest his forearms. Shoulders still slouched, Danny looked absolutely miserable. He hung his head with a weary sigh. His eyes were barely open as he stared blankly at the top blanket.

"Not sure," Steve forced himself to find the energy to talk. He owed Danny something in the way of an explanation. He gestured idly towards the recliner in the corner. "Sat in the chair. Started to feel sick ... cold. Hip was on fire." And all of that was completely the wrong thing to say as Danny's eyes flew open. He gasped out loud, startled by the soft admission.

"What?" Danny hissed over his teeth. "Tell me you didn't just say that." He screwed his eyes tightly shut in his patented way which asked every divine entity for patience _with all things McGarrett. _Danny now looked as if he'd quite literally eaten an entire bag of lemons, pits included.

"What what?" Steve finally dared to ask for clarification, unsure of what he'd said wrong.

"You got up?" Danny continued to hiss. His tone had switched like lightning from annoyance to a strained incredulity. "Like ... up _up_ and out of bed? Are you crazy? Wait! Don't answer that - of course you are! What's wrong with you, huh?!"

Lou shifted his feet by the window. Hands clasped behind his back, he apparently was wondering if he should escape the hospital room or stay to protect Steve as Danny's ire grew. Sarcasm was never a good sign and it was Steve's turn to wince. This only meant that Danny was warming up to a full-on shouting match and Steve was positive that he simply wouldn't be up the verbal tongue lashing. So he did the only thing he could think of: he grabbed for his partner's wrist.

"Can we do this later, Danno?" He asked quietly, stunned when Danny's mouth literally clicked shut and he nodded. Steve watched as Danny scrubbed at his eyes with one hand before roughly finger-combing one side of his hair. Soft blond strands stuck out at odd angles, still a bit bed-mussed. There was a discomfort to each of Danny's movements, too. Steve was sure of it despite how he himself was feeling. Danny was still muscle sore or maybe even more than that. Tiredly, Danny covered Steve's hand with his own.

"Please ... just get well," Danny murmured so softly that Steve was sure that no one else could hear the words. "This whole thing never should have happened. Never. Doc said you're on the right antibiotics and that you need rest and a lot of it. You know what I'm worried about."

Steve nodded as their eyes locked. Danny was worried about the transplant; his immune system. The last thing Steve needed was an infection. Stress leaked from his partner - both mental and physical. But there was more going on and Steve knew that too because Danny's eyes also looked haunted. He couldn't help but scowl in worry even though Danny was tapping the back of his hand, trying to smile and shaking his head as if once again, reading Steve's mind.

"Yeah, so I had a dream or two," Danny quietly admitted just loud enough for Steve to hear. He laughed without humor. "Might have been more a nightmare. But I'm good. I am."

Steve snorted mockingly through his nose at that. He'd born witness to Danny's claustrophobia. What had just happened was pretty dammed severe. Bad enough to make Steve feel no small amount of mental discomfort himself. If it gnawed at him, then the bunker and its ancient tunnels were doing more than that to his partner. Much more and Danny would be suffering. _Might_ have been a nightmare? No, Steve knew it had been and probably something his partner would be finding difficult to shake.

When Danny looked away only to close his eyes, still slumped over the bed-rail, Steve studied him more closely. The proof was staring him in the face. He was additionally convinced that his partner looked sick and not just roughed up from the short ordeal. A soft sheen of sweat dotted Danny's forehead. His overall pallor was an unhealthy shade of gray and the pinched lines around his eyes spoke volumes to the contrary of what he'd just insisted. Danny was far from being fine and it had _almost_ nothing to do with having had a bad dream or two. His partner was indeed sick.

Steve was relieved when Lou ambled closer to the bedside. He hadn't heard the whole of the exchange, yet he understood the gist of the current conversation and he'd been watching Danny as closely as Steve. Steve pinned Lou with a special look before glancing meaningfully back to his silent partner. Lou's nod indicated that he meant business and had zero issue with taking over. But then he didn't have to because Danny wobbled. There was a definite buckling of his knees, followed by a brief flailing of his hands as he grabbed for the bed-rail at the same time Lou went for his elbow to hold him up.

"Danny!" Steve jolted in shock, wincing as he jostled his injured hip. Badly hampered, he could only dig his fingers into Danny's closest hand before Lou Grover literally half-waltzed his partner to the nearest chair.

"Sit ... just sit there and don't you move," Lou demanded. He rolled his eyes at Danny's mumbled insistence that he was good, fine or whatever Steve thought he heard.

"Lou?" Steve asked as he pushed the oxygen mask to the side and simultaneously hit the call button on his bedside remote. "Nurse ... I buzzed the station." His voice didn't want to project and the brief rush of adrenalin was already leaving him feeling used up like a wet rag. "What's wrong?" He asked. "Is he all right?"

"You put that dammed thing back on your face!" Lou said heatedly as he knelt down to be on Danny's level. "And no. No he's not."

Frowning, Steve did as he was told. He watched as Lou ran his fingers over Danny's forehead and neck. Astutely checking for fever and pulse with practiced ease. Under his hands, Danny was far too quiet. Too pliable ... incredibly, uncomplaining about a thing which Lou was doing. Steve shook his head at the turn of events. While Danny was worried about him and his immune system, Steve was just as worried about Danny. What he'd gone through was traumatic. And not withstanding that, Steve could throw any number of things back at Danny. Giving up half an organ was no dance in the park either. And Danny was always giving ... he was always giving up some part of himself whether it be emotional or physical. Even both at the same time.

For Steve. For his son, Charlie ... he was there, all the time. Fidgeting uncomfortably, Steve cursed softly under his breath. He was completely helpless to do a dammed thing.

"Lou?" Steve asked again, knowing his voice wasn't really projecting at all. Stranded on his back, he could only look on.

"He's hot. Sweaty. Pulse seems rapid," Lou said to the first nurse who entered Steve's room. "He's conscious but weak. Maybe dizzy ... he just about keeled over just now."

"Didn't." Danny's one word of objection did little to ease Steve's mind because his eyes were _still_ tightly closed. Danny was barely functioning.

"Okay you keep telling yourself that," Lou answered him not too unkindly. He gently tapped Danny's knee. "You just sit there, Danny, and let these nice people check you out. Patronize an old man ... get your back checked out again; that one scrape is a problem. I know it is. Renee's cookies ain't gonna fix that."

Helpless to do more than just keep watching, Steve lay there bedridden as Doctor Sloan arrived to give his partner a quick but very thorough once-over. When the doctor glanced his way after demanding a gurney from his staff, Steve read his expression well enough before Sloan even spoke.

"You two are quite the pair," the doctor noted as he stood to his full height. "Based on what I'm seeing, my assumption is that your partner might have contracted leptospirosis. Most likely from the runoff - the short swim he took - any one of his open scrapes or cuts could be the culprit. Or, he accidentally ingested contaminated water. Either way, you very well may have a room-mate, Commander."

"I'll go with. Hang tight," Lou said softly to Steve after Danny was transferred to a gurney. "He'll be fine; this is what he needs." Alarm on the rise since what Lou said was undoubtedly true, Steve couldn't do a singe thing except raise his hand in thanks. Seconds later, he was alone.

_**~ to be continued ~**_


	14. Chapter 14 - End

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **_SOOO - I got the job in contract form anyway which means we're both trying each other out before a full transition ...if it's meant to be. But the first few days were great so I'm hopeful. Thank you for all the crossed fingers and well wishes! Keep 'em coming until I get totally hired._

And finally the muse kicked in. Thank you all for your patience. This was a long dry spell for me. UNDYING thanks to Phoebe for putting up with the starts and stops - and for putting up with the whining - complaining - "woe is me muse" talk over the last many days. I appreciate the support and patience as always!

Phoebe, I touched it again. I did .. I touched that darn last sentence ... even after I sent you the second go. Errr? Hope it's good!

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve's very unhappy room-mate showed up just shy of two hours later. But where Steve was completely oblivious to that fact, his new room-mate was awake and grumbling under his breath in abject disgust. Flat out on his back, Danny was wheeled back into the ICU objecting the entire time.

"Don't need intensive care ...," he repeated to a nurse who merely gave him an obligatory smile. Danny made a face; one he aimed at Lou. This was, after all, Lou's fault. For one, he easily could have been given his own hospital room. Secondly, he could have even declined medical attention and gone home ... at least if he'd been given half the chance. Lou Grover had seen fit to step in though, taking away each one of Danny's potential objections. Danny might have made it _home_ if not for one ex-SWAT Commander who'd given him no choice at all.

"Lou, this is even over the top for you," Danny complained as the medical staff got him settled.

"Now you listen to me for a change," Lou said in a low voice. "Both of you."

"Steve's asleep," Danny said sarcastically. "He's not exactly listening, Lou. And don't you think he should be for this? I mean, fair is ..."

"Don't you sass me!" Lou interrupted him and Danny raised an eyebrow. Finger twirling through the air like he might be conjuring up some kind of potion, Lou ended the last clockwise rotation by stabbing the digit sharply in Danny's direction.

"He's sick as a dog. _You're_ sick as a dog ... infections and leptospirosis ain't nothin' to fool with! And I can't even deal with the _concept_ of needing to corral either one of ya ... or, worse yet, play messenger boy when you each start griping about the other like a pair of fussy, pansy-assed hens. So Danny, I'll just leave it at that. You stay in that bed and you heal up. If you need to know how your boy is doing, just turn your head to the left."

Danny bit his lip, scowling and for once, didn't know what to say. Though he sure as heck wanted to on principle alone, he actually didn't intend to go anywhere. Wilting backwards, Danny stayed quiet and blamed that on how sick he was feeling. In truth there wasn't a thing which Lou had said that wasn't valid. With an aggrieved sigh, Danny turned his aching head towards the all to familiar bed nearest the window. In dire need of a shave and decent shower, Steve was indeed in a deep sleep. Danny's ill humor immediately softened in relief.

Steve was sick. He was still sporting an oxygen mask and blood pressure cuff. And to Danny's mostly untrained eye, his breathing might have been just a bit off. His blood pressure might have been on the too low side, but Steve was sleeping. He was really _sleeping_ and he did look better than when Danny had last laid eyes on him.

"That's good," Danny murmured softly as he stared at Steve's uncommon lax expression. Seeing for himself that the heavy lines of pain were gone from his partner's face, did Danny good. The fever and pain had come on fast. Steve's earlier weakness had been blatant and that? That in the likes of Steve McGarrett had been downright terrifying.

So again, Lou was right. If Danny'd been perfectly fine, he'd either be at the hospital or fretting at home that he _should be_ at the hospital.

"I'm going home."

Danny glanced up and caught Lou's eye. He nodded at the stern expression, feeling duly chastised.

"I'm leaving," Lou repeated as if he had to. But Danny easily read between the lines. With a tone that was still very stern, Lou was warning him to stay put. Something which in all honesty, Lou didn't need to do to him; Danny wasn't usually the problem in the equation.

"Have I ever ignored doctor's orders?" Danny saw to fit ask as a chill ran through him hard enough to jolt his body from head to toe. "Ever?"

The initial non verbal answer and lopsided frown only half-believed him which Danny didn't think was fair.

"It's not me ...," Danny insisted stubbornly.

"Don't matter," Lou finally said. "With you it's more like how you _got_ here that I don't appreciate. Did I not say you looked bad hours ago and did you not absolutely insist that you were perfectly fine?"

Danny scowled as Lou poised his finger high in the air again going from Danny to Steve and back to him again. "Alls I know right now is that having you two in the same spot makes my life a whole lot easier."

Danny blinked tiredly. It was a battle he was losing - had lost well before it started - and he'd best keep his mouth shut. He was nauseous and cold. His muscles ached deeply not only from the tussle, but from the leptospirosis he'd managed to acquire during his little impromptu swim. Something he also couldn't afford to have as a donor, not only so recently to his partner, but also for his son. In fact, the normally smiling and easy-going Doctor Sloan wasn't at all too happy to have learned the whole of Danny's medical history.

"Get some rest, man," Lou whispered as he disappeared out the door. With another sigh and long, hard look at his partner, Danny closed his eyes and did just that.

**H5O* H5O**

A name he knew better than his own faded away like a whisper, along with the oppressive thickness of the nightmare. First it was there stuck with him inside an all-consuming darkness and then there was nothing at all ... and Danny was awake. The nightmare was gone. He remembered something important though - he hadn't spared himself the indignity of collapsing in private. And because of that, nor had he escaped the confines of the hospital. Why? Because he'd managed to contract some funky bacterial infection after his impromptu swim.

_Yeah. Right._ Danny scrubbed at his face as he brought himself back up to speed when he connected with the nasal cannula.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. If he milked it the right way, a short stay could almost be like a sweet little vacation of sorts. If he had to be stuck here for a day or two, Danny thought that he might deserve these moments of quiet, self-absorbed selfishness. Solitude was under-rated. At least, when it was above ground.

He moved his arm. Then adjusted a leg, fidgeting to the left to get more comfortable on his sore back. He conducted a few minor experiments in moving his body with his eyes still resolutely closed even as various noises eked their way in.

The steady beeping of a monitor. An undertone of conversational voices. A distant laugh. Normal. Common and soothing. Things he was happily aware of but didn't need to get involved in ... not just yet.

Danny tentatively shifted his other arm and stopped when he felt the uncomfortable tug of an IV line. What felt like a clunky plastic cap of some sort, encased one finger. He knew what it was ... he'd seen a pulse oximeter on Steve.

_Steve_.

Momentarily alarmed, Danny peeled his eyes open and swung his head towards his left. Steve was still there. Still sleeping. He didn't look as if he'd so much twitched a muscle. Nothing had changed at all. Nevertheless Danny stared longer still, examining his partner from head to toe. There was hardly a crease in the light sheet which draped the quiet form. The one hand he could see was lying quietly on the bedding, palm flat, fingers open.

Quiet. Calm. Pain-free.

With a final look for good measure, Danny slowly relaxed back into his bed and stared up the ceiling. His head was throbbing along with his heartbeat. Nausea toyed relentlessly at his stomach. He willed himself to relax and just breathe while he traced the nasal cannula. It was new; he was sure of it. He didn't recall having needed one earlier. Apparently now though, Danny's own oxygen levels were suspect. Just what the hell was wrong with him then? He'd only been a bit sore and over-tired but now, his physical damages weren't so nominal. His muscles still ached with a vengeance, as did the base of his skull. The doctor had explained that leptospirosis caused flu-like symptoms. His muscles would ache, as would his head. Not all of Danny's pains then were directly from his fight with Jason Cowell.

With a mental sneer, Danny hoped that Cowell was as sick as he was. After all, the lunatic had gone for that very same swim. How else had he made it to the other side? Danny hoped Cowell was suffering as much as he was as he shivered under a blanket he hadn't seen before. He was cold. Freezing really, so he still was spiking a fever. If he'd expected a miracle upon waking, Danny found himself dead wrong. He was sick and deserved to sleep. And hospital bed or not, didn't he deserve this time off?

With one more worried glance towards his partner, Danny finally let his eyes close. Steve was right there and sleeping. Lou had told him to rest too, so he would do just that. Besides, based on the dim lighting, it had to be the middle of the night. A feeling of dread teased somewhere just below the surface though and Danny pushed it away. He needed to sleep; he _wanted_ to sleep.

Nightmares or not, Danny closed his eyes and vowed himself to sleep.

Just this once.

Just for a little while.

_Just_ ...

"Hey Danno. You awake?"

Danny scowled as Steve's fairly loud stage-whisper cut through his quiet mental ramblings.

"No."

"You're awfully fidgetedy to still be asleep." The tinge of relief in Steve's voice was obvious, as was the smile. "Besides, you were looking at me just now. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Danny started to say, cringing inside when Steve literally had the absolute gall to make a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "Shut up." He had to admit though, his response practically mirrored Steve's "_fine_" ... they were both always just dammed peachy, weren't they? Danny bit back a grin.

"Oh, now I should shut up?" Steve continued to chuckle lightly, his voice a mere whisper. "Me?" For a minute, the soft chuckles continued on because Steve wouldn't let it go and Danny heaved out a long, suffering sigh. But he was trying not to openly smile now too.

"I thought you were sleeping," Danny complained petulantly as he forced his eyes back open, still squinting even in the dim light of the room. But. Wait. Danny scowled as what Steve said sank in a bit more firmly: Steve knew he had been looking at him? "You _looked_ like you were sleeping!" He glared at his partner who'd obviously been playing possum quite well. Steve was grinning at him. Then he shrugged unapologetically.

"You were dreaming before," Steve stated quite plainly. Suddenly serious, he lost his smile and he stared back at Danny just as hard.

Danny blinked at him, surprised by the comment.

"It was nothing," Danny said. "I don't even remember it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Like I said, it's gone already."

"Is it? Because you said my name," Steve gently offered next. "You called out to me. You sounded ... you know..." His voice trailed off. Steve stopped talking without actually saying the word - a polite gesture - but Danny remembered being scared. Scared shitless he'd lose Steve. Scared to death he'd be buried alive ... terrified of the closed in pitch darkness of a place that was slow to letting him go ... even when he was wide awake.

"It's gone." Danny shook his head, wanting to deny that whisper of a memory. But he knew it was true. He knew he'd called out for Steve. He'd only thought he'd dreamt that part though.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah I'm fine," Danny whispered, though he was frowning now as an uncomfortable feeling of something being terribly wrong settled in the pit of his stomach. Fragments came back to him. The white flash of Steve's profile. A shadowed hand ... the image of a booted heel that was there and then suddenly wasn't. Danny closed his eyes and visibly shuddered. The dank smell of the tunnel was in his nose again and he was filled with a sense of dread.

He didn't remember anything of the nightmare and yet, he did.

"Danny? Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Steve pressed him harder.

He nodded, eyes still closed. "It's gone," Danny insisted. "It is ... it's just ... dark." There was a pause in their soft exchange long enough for Danny to reopen his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, feeling sickly chilled and incredibly out of sorts. He'd swallowed a bit of tainted water and would be fine despite Sloan's professional concerns over his donor status. But Steve had been shot. The wound a bloody and painful one requiring surgery. At first deemed a success, Danny was harboring doubts about the medical prognosis. A deep infection near the bone was the very last thing Steve had needed to have happen. Turning his head he stared harder yet back at his partner.

"But you ...how do you feel, Steve? How's the pain?" Danny asked. "Sloan said there was a pocket of infection ... like an abscess ... could have killed you."

"It didn't, Danny," Steve replied. "And it won't. Sloan changed up my meds and already I'm feeling better. I'm sore but better. The new round of antibiotics are working. I'll be good as new in a day or two."

Danny snorted noisily through his nose, a mocking sound. He waved his hand through the air, his next giggle, far too-sharp as his stress skyrocketed again.

"What's so funny?"

"And then I'll have to keep you out of the dammed ocean or you'll get what I've got!"

"I'm not going swimming, Danny!" Steve objected loudly.

"Says you ...," Danny muttered under his breath. "Two seconds ... just two seconds ... just once, I'd like to believe you'll listen to a doctor. Any doctor!"

"I won't go swimming; not this time," Steve recanted in a softer voice. "I promise, Danno. Believe me. Scout's honor."

Feeling almost obligated to do something, Danny snorted again. The noise as soft as Steve's promise because, dammit, if Steve's tone wasn't absolutely genuine.

"Okay. Fine," Danny muttered when he sensed Steve staring at him. "I believe you."

"Why'd you follow me?" Steve whispered unexpectedly. "You shouldn't have ... I mean ..."

"Why'd I follow you?" Danny repeated incredulously. "I _shouldn't_ have?" He raised the head of his bed to get a better look at his partner. No, his best friend. Danny had a ton of good answers. Sarcastically voiced snide ones. Excuses about Jason Cowell and how dangerous the perp was. The need to get his particular man at all costs. But each one died before they could touch his lips.

Why had Danny followed Steve into his own personal living hell? Danny opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say. To be sure, Danny wanted to yell. Some part of him wanted to yell and beat his chest at the stupidity of it all. But he just couldn't get himself there. He couldn't find the wherewithal to get that mad because, God help him, based on Steve's expression, it was an honest question.

Honest, because Steve knew just how terrified Danny was of tight places. He knew and didn't berate him for it or take it lightly. Steve got it as only a friend could. And that was it in a nutshell. They each got the other without apology. They trusted each other implicitly ... as only brothers ever could. Each would follow the other anywhere no matter the stakes.

They would always ask the hard questions, too. Talk it all through later no matter what and Danny began to smile. Isn't that what they were doing that very minute? Hashing it out? Checking each other out? Making sure they were still rock-solid? These were the very reasons why he would follow Steve to the ends of the earth to back him up.

To bring him home. To save him.

So case in point, what would have happened if Danny hadn't followed him down into the bunker? He didn't even want to entertain the thought of that. Not ever. He could manage a few bad dreams if he could be exactly where he was that very moment: flat out in a hospital bed staring back at his partner's very much alive face.

"Are you really asking me that question?" Danny asked. His smile grew as he shook his head from side to side. A move which apparently surprised Steve.

"Yes. And I'm serious," Steve said, seemingly worried by Danny's calm response. He pushed his oxygen mask off to the side in order to speak more clearly. "So, but Danny ... why'd you do it? I mean ... I get it ...and I'd never blame you if ...," Steve stammered. "It would have been all right if you hadn't ..."

"Because you imbecile," Danny said warmly, interrupting him. "I'm your partner and ... I _wanted_ to. I will _always_ want to be there."

"Even when you don't?" Steve asked slyly, his worried eyes lighting up as he dared to smile again, understanding exactly what Danny was getting at.

"Yeah," Danny chuckled lightly. "And even when I don't."

**~ End. ~**


	15. Chapter 14 - REPEAT POST Ending

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Notes: **

**I am reposting this chapter 14 after what I already posted - Why? because I got a note that it wasn't appearing. I also was asked if the story was Complete. Which it is. I have it marked as Complete but that seems iffy too. SO - here is the chapter purposefully repeated and appearing as Chapter 15. I'm not sure what's happening ... but I hope this might fix the issue or at least help readers find the last chapter.**

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve's very unhappy room-mate showed up just shy of two hours later. But where Steve was completely oblivious to that fact, his new room-mate was awake and grumbling under his breath in abject disgust. Flat out on his back, Danny was wheeled back into the ICU objecting the entire time.

"Don't need intensive care ...," he repeated to a nurse who merely gave him an obligatory smile. Danny made a face; one he aimed at Lou. This was, after all, Lou's fault. For one, he easily could have been given his own hospital room. Secondly, he could have even declined medical attention and gone home ... at least if he'd been given half the chance. Lou Grover had seen fit to step in though, taking away each one of Danny's potential objections. Danny might have made it _home_ if not for one ex-SWAT Commander who'd given him no choice at all.

"Lou, this is even over the top for you," Danny complained as the medical staff got him settled.

"Now you listen to me for a change," Lou said in a low voice. "Both of you."

"Steve's asleep," Danny said sarcastically. "He's not exactly listening, Lou. And don't you think he should be for this? I mean, fair is ..."

"Don't you sass me!" Lou interrupted him and Danny raised an eyebrow. Finger twirling through the air like he might be conjuring up some kind of potion, Lou ended the last clockwise rotation by stabbing the digit sharply in Danny's direction.

"He's sick as a dog. _You're_ sick as a dog ... infections and leptospirosis ain't nothin' to fool with! And I can't even deal with the _concept_ of needing to corral either one of ya ... or, worse yet, play messenger boy when you each start griping about the other like a pair of fussy, pansy-assed hens. So Danny, I'll just leave it at that. You stay in that bed and you heal up. If you need to know how your boy is doing, just turn your head to the left."

Danny bit his lip, scowling and for once, didn't know what to say. Though he sure as heck wanted to on principle alone, he actually didn't intend to go anywhere. Wilting backwards, Danny stayed quiet and blamed that on how sick he was feeling. In truth there wasn't a thing which Lou had said that wasn't valid. With an aggrieved sigh, Danny turned his aching head towards the all to familiar bed nearest the window. In dire need of a shave and decent shower, Steve was indeed in a deep sleep. Danny's ill humor immediately softened in relief.

Steve was sick. He was still sporting an oxygen mask and blood pressure cuff. And to Danny's mostly untrained eye, his breathing might have been just a bit off. His blood pressure might have been on the too low side, but Steve was sleeping. He was really _sleeping_ and he did look better than when Danny had last laid eyes on him.

"That's good," Danny murmured softly as he stared at Steve's uncommon lax expression. Seeing for himself that the heavy lines of pain were gone from his partner's face, did Danny good. The fever and pain had come on fast. Steve's earlier weakness had been blatant and that? That in the likes of Steve McGarrett had been downright terrifying.

So again, Lou was right. If Danny'd been perfectly fine, he'd either be at the hospital or fretting at home that he _should be_ at the hospital.

"I'm going home."

Danny glanced up and caught Lou's eye. He nodded at the stern expression, feeling duly chastised.

"I'm leaving," Lou repeated as if he had to. But Danny easily read between the lines. With a tone that was still very stern, Lou was warning him to stay put. Something which in all honesty, Lou didn't need to do to him; Danny wasn't usually the problem in the equation.

"Have I ever ignored doctor's orders?" Danny saw to fit ask as a chill ran through him hard enough to jolt his body from head to toe. "Ever?"

The initial non verbal answer and lopsided frown only half-believed him which Danny didn't think was fair.

"It's not me ...," Danny insisted stubbornly.

"Don't matter," Lou finally said. "With you it's more like how you _got_ here that I don't appreciate. Did I not say you looked bad hours ago and did you not absolutely insist that you were perfectly fine?"

Danny scowled as Lou poised his finger high in the air again going from Danny to Steve and back to him again. "Alls I know right now is that having you two in the same spot makes my life a whole lot easier."

Danny blinked tiredly. It was a battle he was losing - had lost well before it started - and he'd best keep his mouth shut. He was nauseous and cold. His muscles ached deeply not only from the tussle, but from the leptospirosis he'd managed to acquire during his little impromptu swim. Something he also couldn't afford to have as a donor, not only so recently to his partner, but also for his son. In fact, the normally smiling and easy-going Doctor Sloan wasn't at all too happy to have learned the whole of Danny's medical history.

"Get some rest, man," Lou whispered as he disappeared out the door. With another sigh and long, hard look at his partner, Danny closed his eyes and did just that.

**H5O* H5O**

A name he knew better than his own faded away like a whisper, along with the oppressive thickness of the nightmare. First it was there stuck with him inside an all-consuming darkness and then there was nothing at all ... and Danny was awake. The nightmare was gone. He remembered something important though - he hadn't spared himself the indignity of collapsing in private. And because of that, nor had he escaped the confines of the hospital. Why? Because he'd managed to contract some funky bacterial infection after his impromptu swim.

_Yeah. Right._ Danny scrubbed at his face as he brought himself back up to speed when he connected with the nasal cannula.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. If he milked it the right way, a short stay could almost be like a sweet little vacation of sorts. If he had to be stuck here for a day or two, Danny thought that he might deserve these moments of quiet, self-absorbed selfishness. Solitude was under-rated. At least, when it was above ground.

He moved his arm. Then adjusted a leg, fidgeting to the left to get more comfortable on his sore back. He conducted a few minor experiments in moving his body with his eyes still resolutely closed even as various noises eked their way in.

The steady beeping of a monitor. An undertone of conversational voices. A distant laugh. Normal. Common and soothing. Things he was happily aware of but didn't need to get involved in ... not just yet.

Danny tentatively shifted his other arm and stopped when he felt the uncomfortable tug of an IV line. What felt like a clunky plastic cap of some sort, encased one finger. He knew what it was ... he'd seen a pulse oximeter on Steve.

_Steve_.

Momentarily alarmed, Danny peeled his eyes open and swung his head towards his left. Steve was still there. Still sleeping. He didn't look as if he'd so much twitched a muscle. Nothing had changed at all. Nevertheless Danny stared longer still, examining his partner from head to toe. There was hardly a crease in the light sheet which draped the quiet form. The one hand he could see was lying quietly on the bedding, palm flat, fingers open.

Quiet. Calm. Pain-free.

With a final look for good measure, Danny slowly relaxed back into his bed and stared up the ceiling. His head was throbbing along with his heartbeat. Nausea toyed relentlessly at his stomach. He willed himself to relax and just breathe while he traced the nasal cannula. It was new; he was sure of it. He didn't recall having needed one earlier. Apparently now though, Danny's own oxygen levels were suspect. Just what the hell was wrong with him then? He'd only been a bit sore and over-tired but now, his physical damages weren't so nominal. His muscles still ached with a vengeance, as did the base of his skull. The doctor had explained that leptospirosis caused flu-like symptoms. His muscles would ache, as would his head. Not all of Danny's pains then were directly from his fight with Jason Cowell.

With a mental sneer, Danny hoped that Cowell was as sick as he was. After all, the lunatic had gone for that very same swim. How else had he made it to the other side? Danny hoped Cowell was suffering as much as he was as he shivered under a blanket he hadn't seen before. He was cold. Freezing really, so he still was spiking a fever. If he'd expected a miracle upon waking, Danny found himself dead wrong. He was sick and deserved to sleep. And hospital bed or not, didn't he deserve this time off?

With one more worried glance towards his partner, Danny finally let his eyes close. Steve was right there and sleeping. Lou had told him to rest too, so he would do just that. Besides, based on the dim lighting, it had to be the middle of the night. A feeling of dread teased somewhere just below the surface though and Danny pushed it away. He needed to sleep; he _wanted_ to sleep.

Nightmares or not, Danny closed his eyes and vowed himself to sleep.

Just this once.

Just for a little while.

_Just_ ...

"Hey Danno. You awake?"

Danny scowled as Steve's fairly loud stage-whisper cut through his quiet mental ramblings.

"No."

"You're awfully fidgetedy to still be asleep." The tinge of relief in Steve's voice was obvious, as was the smile. "Besides, you were looking at me just now. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Danny started to say, cringing inside when Steve literally had the absolute gall to make a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "Shut up." He had to admit though, his response practically mirrored Steve's "_fine_" ... they were both always just dammed peachy, weren't they? Danny bit back a grin.

"Oh, now I should shut up?" Steve continued to chuckle lightly, his voice a mere whisper. "Me?" For a minute, the soft chuckles continued on because Steve wouldn't let it go and Danny heaved out a long, suffering sigh. But he was trying not to openly smile now too.

"I thought you were sleeping," Danny complained petulantly as he forced his eyes back open, still squinting even in the dim light of the room. But. Wait. Danny scowled as what Steve said sank in a bit more firmly: Steve knew he had been looking at him? "You _looked_ like you were sleeping!" He glared at his partner who'd obviously been playing possum quite well. Steve was grinning at him. Then he shrugged unapologetically.

"You were dreaming before," Steve stated quite plainly. Suddenly serious, he lost his smile and he stared back at Danny just as hard.

Danny blinked at him, surprised by the comment.

"It was nothing," Danny said. "I don't even remember it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Like I said, it's gone already."

"Is it? Because you said my name," Steve gently offered next. "You called out to me. You sounded ... you know..." His voice trailed off. Steve stopped talking without actually saying the word - a polite gesture - but Danny remembered being scared. Scared shitless he'd lose Steve. Scared to death he'd be buried alive ... terrified of the closed in pitch darkness of a place that was slow to letting him go ... even when he was wide awake.

"It's gone." Danny shook his head, wanting to deny that whisper of a memory. But he knew it was true. He knew he'd called out for Steve. He'd only thought he'd dreamt that part though.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah I'm fine," Danny whispered, though he was frowning now as an uncomfortable feeling of something being terribly wrong settled in the pit of his stomach. Fragments came back to him. The white flash of Steve's profile. A shadowed hand ... the image of a booted heel that was there and then suddenly wasn't. Danny closed his eyes and visibly shuddered. The dank smell of the tunnel was in his nose again and he was filled with a sense of dread.

He didn't remember anything of the nightmare and yet, he did.

"Danny? Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Steve pressed him harder.

He nodded, eyes still closed. "It's gone," Danny insisted. "It is ... it's just ... dark." There was a pause in their soft exchange long enough for Danny to reopen his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, feeling sickly chilled and incredibly out of sorts. He'd swallowed a bit of tainted water and would be fine despite Sloan's professional concerns over his donor status. But Steve had been shot. The wound a bloody and painful one requiring surgery. At first deemed a success, Danny was harboring doubts about the medical prognosis. A deep infection near the bone was the very last thing Steve had needed to have happen. Turning his head he stared harder yet back at his partner.

"But you ...how do you feel, Steve? How's the pain?" Danny asked. "Sloan said there was a pocket of infection ... like an abscess ... could have killed you."

"It didn't, Danny," Steve replied. "And it won't. Sloan changed up my meds and already I'm feeling better. I'm sore but better. The new round of antibiotics are working. I'll be good as new in a day or two."

Danny snorted noisily through his nose, a mocking sound. He waved his hand through the air, his next giggle, far too-sharp as his stress skyrocketed again.

"What's so funny?"

"And then I'll have to keep you out of the dammed ocean or you'll get what I've got!"

"I'm not going swimming, Danny!" Steve objected loudly.

"Says you ...," Danny muttered under his breath. "Two seconds ... just two seconds ... just once, I'd like to believe you'll listen to a doctor. Any doctor!"

"I won't go swimming; not this time," Steve recanted in a softer voice. "I promise, Danno. Believe me. Scout's honor."

Feeling almost obligated to do something, Danny snorted again. The noise as soft as Steve's promise because, dammit, if Steve's tone wasn't absolutely genuine.

"Okay. Fine," Danny muttered when he sensed Steve staring at him. "I believe you."

"Why'd you follow me?" Steve whispered unexpectedly. "You shouldn't have ... I mean ..."

"Why'd I follow you?" Danny repeated incredulously. "I _shouldn't_ have?" He raised the head of his bed to get a better look at his partner. No, his best friend. Danny had a ton of good answers. Sarcastically voiced snide ones. Excuses about Jason Cowell and how dangerous the perp was. The need to get his particular man at all costs. But each one died before they could touch his lips.

Why had Danny followed Steve into his own personal living hell? Danny opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say. To be sure, Danny wanted to yell. Some part of him wanted to yell and beat his chest at the stupidity of it all. But he just couldn't get himself there. He couldn't find the wherewithal to get that mad because, God help him, based on Steve's expression, it was an honest question.

Honest, because Steve knew just how terrified Danny was of tight places. He knew and didn't berate him for it or take it lightly. Steve got it as only a friend could. And that was it in a nutshell. They each got the other without apology. They trusted each other implicitly ... as only brothers ever could. Each would follow the other anywhere no matter the stakes.

They would always ask the hard questions, too. Talk it all through later no matter what and Danny began to smile. Isn't that what they were doing that very minute? Hashing it out? Checking each other out? Making sure they were still rock-solid? These were the very reasons why he would follow Steve to the ends of the earth to back him up.

To bring him home. To save him.

So case in point, what would have happened if Danny hadn't followed him down into the bunker? He didn't even want to entertain the thought of that. Not ever. He could manage a few bad dreams if he could be exactly where he was that very moment: flat out in a hospital bed staring back at his partner's very much alive face.

"Are you really asking me that question?" Danny asked. His smile grew as he shook his head from side to side. A move which apparently surprised Steve.

"Yes. And I'm serious," Steve said, seemingly worried by Danny's calm response. He pushed his oxygen mask off to the side in order to speak more clearly. "So, but Danny ... why'd you do it? I mean ... I get it ...and I'd never blame you if ...," Steve stammered. "It would have been all right if you hadn't ..."

"Because you imbecile," Danny said warmly, interrupting him. "I'm your partner and ... I _wanted_ to. I will _always_ want to be there."

"Even when you don't?" Steve asked slyly, his worried eyes lighting up as he dared to smile again, understanding exactly what Danny was getting at.

"Yeah," Danny chuckled lightly. "And even when I don't."

**~ End. ~**


End file.
